.,A^-Ti^.4^  iv^r<«4!<z« 


<L^^^^    J^of-^-^i^  =.Z//^^^a,e/(y. 


DISRAELI 

A    STUDY    IN 
PERSONALITY   AND    IDEAS 


BY 

WALTER   SICHEL 

AUTHOR   OF   "BOLINGBROKE  AND  HIS  TIMES' 


WITH   THREE   ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW    YORK 
FUNK   &   WAGNALLS   COMPANY 

LONDON  :   METHUEN  &  CO. 
1904 


u  n  -' 


-BSSS 


DISRAELI 


CONTENTS 


ERRATUM 


Page  22,  line  2note,/t7r  "called  to  the  bar"  read  "entered  at  Lincoln's 
Inn  " 


CHAPTER    VI 
COLONIES— EMPIRE— FOREIGN    POLICY 199 

CHAPTER   VII 
AMERICA— IRELAND 246 

CHAPTER  VIII 
SOCIETY 268 

CHAPTER   IX 

LITERATURE  :    WIT,    HUMOUR,  ROMANCE 289 

CHAPTER  X 

CAREER 316 

INDEX 327 


iv!'^(5yiii 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION.      ON  THE   IMAGINATIVE  QUALITY  ....  I 

CHAPTER    I 
DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY 21 

CHAPTER    II 

DEMOCRACY   AND   REPRESENTATION 53 

CHAPTER    III 
LABOUR — "young   ENGLAND" — "  FREE  TRADE  "     .  .  .  .112 

CHAPTER    IV 
CHURCH  AND  THEOCRACY 145 

CHAPTER   V 

MONARCHY .  .  .  .      l8o 

CHAPTER   VI 
COLONIES— EMPIRE— FOREIGN    POLICY 199 

CHAPTER   VII 
AMERICA— IRELAND 246 

CHAPTER  VIII 

SOCIETY 268 

CHAPTER    IX 

LITERATURE  :    WIT,    HUMOUR,   ROMANCE 289 

CHAPTER  X 

CAREER 316 

INDEX 327 


iMi?(»lll 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


TO   FACE   PACK 

PORTRAIT  OF  THE  YOUNG   DISRAELI.     FROM  THE  MINIATURE  BY 
KENNETH   MACLEAY  IN  THE   NATIONAL    PORTRAIT   GALLERY 

Frontispiece 

PORTRAIT  OF  DISRAELI  THE  YOUNGER.      AFTER  A  WATER  COLOUR 

BY  A.   E.   CHALON 23 

PORTRAIT    OF    DISRAELI     IN     1 852.      AFTER    A    PAINTING    BY    SIR 

FRANCIS   GRANT,   P.R.A 289 


•time  is  represented  with  a  scythe  as  well  as  with  an 
hour-glass.  with  the  one  he  mows  down,  with  the 
OTHER  HE  RECONSTRUCTS."— Disraeli,  in  The  Press,  1853. 

•GREAT  MINDS  MUST  TRUST  TO  GREAT  TRUTHS  AND  GREAT 
TALENTS  FOR   THEIR   RISE,   AND   NOTHING  ELSE." 

■TRUE  WISDOM  LIES  IN  THE  POLICY  THAT  WOULD  EFFECT  ITS 
AIMS  BY  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  OPINION,  AND  YET  BY  THE  MEANS 
OF   EXISTING   FORMS." 

.  .  .  THE  PAST  IS  ONE  OF  THE  ELEMENTS  OF  OUR  POWER." — 
Speech  on  Mr.  Cobden's  death,  April  i,  1S65. 


DISRAELI 

INTRODUCTION 
ON   THE   IMAGINATIVE   QUALITY 

THE  power  of  imagination  is  essential  to  supreme  states- 
manship. Indeed,  no  really  originative  genius  in  any 
domain  of  the  mind  can  succeed  without  it.  In 
literature  it  reigns  paramount.  Of  art  it  is  the  soul. 
Without  it  the  historian  is  a  mere  registrar  of  sequence,  and 
no  interpreter  of  characters.  In  science  it  decides  the  end 
towards  which  the  daring  of  a  Verulam,  a  Newton,  a  Her- 
schel,  a  Darwin,  can  travel.  On  the  battle-field,  in  both 
elements,  it  enabled  Marlborough,  Nelson,  and  Napoleon  to 
revolutionise  tactics.  In  the  law  its  influence  is  perhaps  less 
evident ;  but  even  here  a  masterful  insight  into  the  spirit  of 
precedent  marks  the  creative  judge.  By  lasting  imagination, 
far  more  than  by  the  colder  weapon  of  shifting  reason,  the 
world  is  governed.  "  Even  Mormon,"  wrote  Disraeli,  "  counts 
more  votaries  than  Bentham."  For  imagination  is  a  vivid, 
intellectual,  half-spiritual  sympathy,  which  diverts  the  flood  of 
human  passion  into  fresh  channels  to  fertilise  the  soil  ;  just 
as  fancy  again  is  the  play  of  intellectual  emotion.  Whereas 
reason,  the  measure  of  which  varies  from  age  to  age,  can 
only  at  best  dam  or  curb  the  deluge  for  a  time.  Reason 
educates  and  criticises,  but  Imagination  inspires  and  creates. 
The  magnetic  force  which  is  felt  is  really  the  spell  of  personal 
influence  and  the  key  of  public  opinion.  It  solves  problems 
by  visualising  them,  and  kindles  enthusiasm  from  its  own 
fascinating  fires.     And   more :    Imagination  is  in  the  truest 


2  DlSRxVELI 

seiioe  prophetic.  Could  one  only  grasp  with  a  perfect  view 
the  myriad  provinces  of  suffering,  enterprise,  and  aspiration 
with  which  the  Leader  is  called  upon  to  grapple,  not  only 
would  the  expedients  to  meet  them  suggest  themselves  as 
by  a  divine  flash,  but  their  inevitable  relations  and  meanings 
would  start  into  vision.  For  what  the  herd  call  the  Present, 
is  only  the  literal  fact,  the  shell,  of  environment.  Its  spirit  is 
the  Future  ;  and  the  highest  imagination  in  seeing  it  foresees. 
Imagination,  once  more,  is  the  mainspring  of  spontaneity. 
Its  vigour  enables  the  will  to  beget  circumstance,  instead  of 
being  the  creature  of  surroundings  ;  "  for  Imagination  ever 
precedeth  voluntary  motion,"  says  Bacon.  It  empowers  the 
will  of  one  to  sway  and  mould  the  wills  of  many.  And  it  is 
the  very  source  of  that  capacity  for  idealism  which  alone  dis- 
tinguishes man  from  the  brute.  Viewing  in  1870  the  general 
purport  of  his  message,  Disraeli  wrote  with  truth  that  it 
"...  ran  counter  to  the  views  which  had  long  been  prevalent 
in  England,  and  which  may  be  popularly,  though  not 
altogether  accurately,  described  as  utilitarian  ; "  that  it 
"recognised  imagination  in  the  government  of  nations  as  a 
quality  not  less  important  than  reason  ; "  that  it  "  trusted  to  a 
popular  sentiment  which  rested  on  an  heroic  tradition,  and 
was  sustained  by  the  high  spirit  of  a  free  aristocracy ; "  that 
its  "economical  principles  were  not  unsound,"  but  that  it 
"  looked  upon  the  health  and  knowledge  of  the  multitude  as 
not  the  least  precious  part  of  the  wealth  of  nations  ; "  that  "  in 
asserting  the  doctrine  of  race,"  it  "was  entirely  opposed  to 
the  equality  of  man,  and  similar  abstract  dogmas,  which  have 
destroyed  ancient  society  without  creating  a  satisfactory  sub- 
stitute ; "  that  "  resting  on  popular  sympathies  and  popular 
privileges,"  it  "  held  that  no  society  could  be  durable  unless  it 
was  built  upon  the  principles  of  loyalty  and  religious  reverence." 
How  comes  it,  then,  that,  in  the  art  of  governing  a  free 
people,  this  imaginative  fellowship  with  unseen  ideas,  this 
power  which  men  call  Genius,  "  to  make  the  passing  shadow 
serve  thy  will,"  is  so  constantly  suspected  and  mistrusted  ; 
that  ?mcommon  sense,  until  it  triumphs,  is  a  stone  of  stum- 
bling to  the  common  sense  of  the  average  man  ?  That 
Cromwell  was  called  a  self-seeking  maniac  for  his  vision  of 


ON  THE   IMAGINATIVE   QUALITY      3 

Theocracy  ;  William  of  Orange,  a  cold-blooded  monster  for 
his  quest  after  union  and  empire  ;  Bolingbroke,  a  charlatan 
for  his  fight  against  class-preponderance,  and  on  behalf  of 
united  nationality  ;  Chatham,  an  actor  for  his  dramatic  dis- 
dain of  shams  ;  Canning,  by  turns  a  charlatan  and  buffoon, 
for  preferring  the  traditions  of  a  popular  crown  to  the  inno- 
vations of  a  crowned  democracy,  and  at  the  same  time 
seeking  to  break  the  charmed  circle  of  a  patrician  syndicate  ; 
that  Burke  was  hounded  out  by  jealous  oligarchs  for  refusing 
to  confound  the  "nation"  with  the  "people,"  and  cosmo- 
politan opinions  with  national  principles  ?  The  main  answer 
is  simple.  What  is  above  the  moment  is  feared  by  it,  and 
malice  is  the  armour  of  fear :  "  It  is  the  abject  property  of 
most  that  being  parcel  of  the  common  mass,  and  destitute  of 
means  to  raise  themselves,  they  sink  and  settle  lower  than 
they  need.  They  know  not  what  it  is  to  feel  within  a  com- 
prehensive faculty  that  grasps  great  purposes  with  ease,  that 
turns  and  wields  almost  without  an  effort  plans  too  vast  for 
their  conception,  which  they  cannot  move ;  "  and  there  are 
always  the  jealous  who — 

"...  If  they  find 
Some  stain  or  blemish  in  a  name  of  note, 
Not  grieving  that  their  greatest  are  so  small, 
Inflate  themselves  with  some  insane  delight, 
And  judge  all  Nature  from  her  feet  of  clay." 

There  are  the  puzzled  whom  novelty  bewilders,  and  there 
are  the  cautious  who  suspect  it.  And  there  is  the  wholesome 
instinct  of  the  plain  majority  to  pin  itself  to  immediate 
"measures"  without  recognising  that  a  "  principle"  may  change 
expedients  for  bringing  its  idea  into  effect.  Again,  there 
are  many — especially  in  England — who,  in  their  genuine 
scorn  of  pinchbeck,  mistake  the  great  for  the  grandiose,  and 
certain  that  nothing  which  glitters  can  be  gold,  invest 
imaginative  brilliance  with  the  tinsel  spangles  of  Harlequin. 
There  are,  too,  the  second-rate  and  the  second-hand, 
whose  life  is  one  long  quotation,  and  who  doubt  every 
coin  unissued  from  the  nearest  mint  ;  and  there  is,  moreover, 
a  sort  of  stolid  crassness  readily  dignified  into  sterling 
solidity.     All    this    is    natural.     Institutions    and    traditions 


4  DISRAELI 

themselves  have  been  aliens  until  naturalised  in  and  by  the 
community.  Imagination  gave  them  birth,  national  needs 
accept  them  ;  and  the  contemporary  sneer  is  often  succeeded 
by  the  posthumous  statue. 

Perhaps  the  most  curious  feature  of  the  prosaic  and  im- 
perceptive  man  is  his  ready  confusion  of  the  dramatic  with 
the  theatrical,  of  attitude  with  posture,  of  pointed  effects 
for  a  big  purpose  with  affectations  for  a  small.  Flirtation 
might  just  as  well  be  confounded  with  love,  or  foppery  with 
breeding.  And  yet  these  same  unimaginative  censors  have 
often  contradicted  their  protests  by  their  actions,  and  squan- 
dered great  opportunities  by  futile  strokes  of  the  theatre. 

So  early  as  1837,  Shell,  who  from  the  first  admired  the 
young  Disraeli  (then  Bulwer's  intimate  and  the  meteor  of 
three  seasons),  whom  Disraeli  praised  in  one  of  his  earliest 
election  speeches,  and  who  was  surely  no  mean  judge  of  intel- 
lectual eloquence,  warned  him  after  his  dibiit  that  "the 
House  will  not  allow  a  man  to  be  a  wit  and  an  orator,  unless 
they  have  the  credit  of  finding  it  out.  .  .  .  You  have  shown 
the  House  that  you  have  a  fine  organ,  that  you  have  an 
unlimited  command  of  language,  that  you  have  courage, 
temper,  and  readiness.  Now  get  rid  of  your  genius  for  a 
session  ;  speak  often,  for  you  must  not  show  yourself  cowed, 
but  speak  shortly.  Be  very  quiet,  try  to  be  dull,  only  argue 
and  reason  imperfectly,  for  if  you  reason  with  precision,  they 
will  think  you  are  trying  to  be  witty.  Astonish  them  by 
speaking  on  subjects  of  detail.  Quote  figures,  dates,  calcu- 
lations, and  in  a  short  time  the  House  will  sigh  for  the  wit 
and  eloquence  which  they  all  know  are  in  you  ;  they  will 
encourage  you  to  pour  them  forth,  and  then  you  will  have 
the  ear  of  the  House,  and  be  a  favourite."  Seventeen  years 
afterwards,  when  the  dashing  litth'ateiiv  had  become  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer  and  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
Mr.  Walpole  thus  defended  him  against  his  enemies  on  the 
Budget.  "...  Whence  is  it  that  these  extraordinary  attacks 
are  made  against  my  right  honourable  friend  ?  What  is  the 
reason,  what  is  the  cause,  that  he  is  to  be  assailed  at  every 
point,  when  he  has  made  two  financial  statements  in  one 
year,   which   have   both    met   with   the    approbation   of  this 


ON  THE   IMAGINATIVE   QUALITY       5 

House,  and  I  believe  also  with  the  approbation  of  the 
country  ?  Is  it  because  he  has  laboured  hard  and  long, 
contending  with  genius  against  rank  and  power  and  the  ablest 
statesmen,  until  he  has  attained  the  highest  eminence  which 
an  honourable  ambition  may  ever  aspire  to — the  leadership 
and  guidance  of  the  Commons  of  England  ?  Is  it  because  he 
has  verified  in  himself  the  dignified  description  of  a  great 
philosophical  poet  of  antiquity,  portraying  equally  his  past 
career  and  his  present  position — 

'  Certare  ingenio  ;  contendere  nobilitate  ; 
Noctes  atque  dies  niti  prsestante  labore 
Ad  summas  emergere  opes,  rerumque  potiri '  ? " 

Yes !  This  is  the  sort  of  barrier  piled  in  the  path  of  the 
brilliant  by  the  "practical"  man — "the  man  who  practises  the 
blunders  of  his  predecessors,"  the  "  prophet  of  the  past."  Still 
greater,  because  deeper  laid,  are  the  obstacles  which  confront 
him  when  he  has  mastered  the  drudgery  of  office  and  the 
strategy  of  debate  ;  when,  from  the  vantage-ground  of  political 
pre-eminence  and  public  approval,  he  dares  to  look  over  the 
heads  of  his  compeers  and  prepare  strong  foundations  for 
the  future  of  his  country.  Then  that  becomes  true  which 
Bolingbroke  has  so  splendidly  expressed  :  "  The  ocean  which 
environs  us  is  an  emblem  of  our  government,  and  the  pilot 
and  the  minister  are  in  similar  circumstances.  It  seldom 
happens  that  either  of  them  can  steer  a  direct  course,  and 
they  both  arrive  at  their  port  by  means  which  frequently 
seem  to  carry  them  from  it.  But  as  the  work  advances,  the 
conduct  of  him  who  leads  it  on  with  real  abilities  clears  up, 
the  appearing  inconsistencies  are  reconciled,  and  when  it  is 
once  consummated,  the  whole  shows  itself  so  uniform,  so  plain, 
and  so  natural,  that  every  dabbler  in  politics  will  be  apt  to 
think  that  he  could  have  done  the  same." 

It  is  this  that  Disraeli  effected  by  reverting  to  fundamental 
elements  and  substituting  the  generous,  inclusive,  and 
"  national "  Toryism  of  Bolingbroke,  Wyndham,  and  Pitt,  for 
the  perverted  Toryism  of  Eldon  ;  the  "  party  without  prin- 
ciples," the  "Tory  men  and  Whig  measures,"  the  "organised 
hypocrisy  "  that  followed  on  the  "Tamworth  Manifesto;"  the 
Conservatism  that  "preserved  "  institutions  as  men  "  preserve  " 


6  DISRAELI 

p^ame,  only  to  kill  them  ;  and  the  outworn  Whiggism  that 
excluded  all  but  a  few  governing  families  from  power  ;  and, 
after  its  great  achievement  of  religious  liberty,  exploited  the 
extension  of  civil  privileges  as  the  mere  muniment  of  its 
own  title.  He  ended  the  confederacies  and  revived  the  creed.^ 
He  repudiated  the  system  under  which  "  the  Crown  had 
become  a  cipher,  the  Church  a  sect,  the  nobility  drones,  and 
the  people  drudges."  "...  But  we  forget,"  he  urges  in  Sj>bil^ 
"  Sir  Robert  Peel  is  not  the  leader  of  the  Tory  party — the 
party  that  resisted  the  ruinous  mystification  that  metamor- 
phosed direct  taxation  by  the  Crown  into  indirect  taxation 
by  the  Commons  ;  that  denounced  the  system  which  mort- 
gaged industry  to  protect  property  ;  ^  the  party  that  ruled 
Ireland  by  a  scheme  which  reconciled  both  Churches,  and  by 
a  series  of  parliaments  which  counted  among  them  lords  and 
commons  of  both  religions  ;  that  has  maintained  at  all  times 
the  territorial  constitution  of  England  as  the  only  basis  and 
security  for  local  government,  and  which  nevertheless  once  laid 
on  the  table  of  the  House  of  Commons  a  commercial  tariff 
negotiated  at  Utrecht,  which  is  the  most  rational  that  was  ever 
devised  by  statesmen  ;  a  party  that  has  prevented  the  Church 
from  being  the  salaried  agent  of  the  State,  and  has  supported 
the  parochial  polity  of  the  country  which  secures  to  every 
labourer  a  home.  In  a  parliamentary  sense  that  great  party 
has  ceased  to  exist ;  but  I  will  believe  that  it  still  lives  in 
the  thought  and  sentiment  ...  of  the  English  nation.  It 
has  its  origin  in  great  principles  and  noble  instincts ;  it 
sympathises  with  the  lowly,  it  looks  up  to  the  Most  High  ; 
it  can  count  its  heroes  and  its  martyrs.  .  .  .  Even  now,  .  .  . 
in  an  age  of  political  materialism,  of  confused  purposes  and 
perplexed  intelligence,  that  aspires  only  to  wealth  because  it 
has  faith  in  no  other  accomplishment ;  ^  as  men  rifle  cargoes 

^  " .  .  .  These  are  concessionary,  not  Conservative  principles.  This 
party  treats  institutions  as  we  do  our  pheasants,  they  preserve  only  to 
destroy  them." 

2  Swift,  adverting  to  National  Debt. 

^'  Cardinal  Newman  afterwards  inveighed  against  the  same  union  of 
faithlessness  and  Mammon  in  one  of  his  finest  sermons.  Disraeli  con- 
stantly dwelt  on  the  dangers  that  liberty  might  suffer,  if  a  democracy  un- 
reconciled to  monarchy  and  its  institutioiib  became  a  class  instead  of  an 


ON  THE   IMAGINATIVE   QUALITY      7 

on  the  verge  of  shipwreck,  Toryism  will  yet  rise  from  the 

I  tomb  .  .  .  to  bring  back  strength  to  the  Croivn,  liberty  to  the 
subject,  and  to  announce  that  poiuer  has  only  one  duty — to  secure 
the  social  welfare  of  the  people." 

And,  again,  this  from  the  close  of  Coningsby :  "...  he 
looked  upon  a  government  without  distinct  principles  of 
policy  as  only  a  stop-gap  to  a  widespread  and  demoralising 
anarchy  ;  .  .  .  he  for  one  could  not  comprehend  how  a  free 
government  could  endure  without  national  opinions  to  uphold 
it.  ...  As  for  Conservative  government,  the  natural  question 
was,  '  What  do  you  mean  to  conserve .''...  Things  or  only 
names,  realities  or  merely  appearances  ?  Do  you  mean  to 
continue  the  system  commenced  in  1834,  and  with  a  hypo- 
critical reverence  for  the  principles  and  a  superstitious 
adherence  to  the  forms  of  the  old  exclusive  constitution, 
carry  on  your  policy  by  latitudinarian  practice  .'''  " 

His  lifelong  purpose  as  a  statesman  was  to  refresh  institu- 
tions with  reality,  and  to  show  by  practice,  as  well  as  by 
precept,  that,  in  all  classes,  an  aristocracy  without  inherent 
superiority  is  doomed.  De  Tocqueville,  in  his  famous  treatise 
on  "  The  Old  Regime  and  the  Revolution,"  does  the  same. 

Eighteenth-centuiy  Toryism,  a  smitten  cause  espousing 
popular  privileges,  taught  that  unless  the  Crown  ruled  for  the 
people  as  well  as  reigned  over  them,  unless  the  nobles  led 
them  independently  to  high  issues,  unless  the  people  them- 
selves recognised  that  they  were  the  privileged  order  in  a 
nation,  and  that  their  representatives  should  form  "a  senate 
supported  by  the  sympathy  of  millions,"  the  traditional  prin- 
ciples of  England  had  dwindled  into  a  sham. 

"  No  one,"  says  Disraeli  in  Conirtgsby,  again  adverting  to 
the  critical  issues  of  1834,  "had  arisen  either  in  Parliament, 
the  Universities,  or  the  Press,  to  lead  the  public  mind  to  the 
investigation  of  principles ;  and  not  to  mistake  in  their 
reformations  the  corruption  of  practice  for  fundamental  ideas. 
It  was  this  perplexed,  ill-informed,  jaded,  shallow  generation, 

element,  and  was  brought  into  collision  with  the  "  three  per  cents."  The 
despotisms  of  bare  democracy  and  of  aggravated  plutocracy  were  equally 
distasteful  to  him,  and  he  feared  their  union.  Cf.  many  striking  passages 
in  The  Press,  1853-59. 


8  DISRAELI 

repeating  cries  which  they  did  not  comprehend,  and  wearied 
with  the  endless  ebullitions  of  their  own  barren  conceit,  that 
Sir  Robert  Peel  was  summoned  to  govern.  It  was  from  such 
materials,  ample  in  quantity,  but  in  all  spiritual  qualities  most 
deficient ;  with  great  numbers,  largely  acred,  consoled  up  to 
their  chins,  but  without  knowledge,  genius,  thought,  truth,  or 
faith,  that  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  to  form  '  a  great  Conservative 
party  on  a  comprehensive  basis.  .  .  .' "  Even  Sir  Robert's 
single-mindedness  and  supremacy  over  Parliament  failed  to 
secure  strength  of  Government.  By  universal  consent,  includ- 
ing his  own  avowal,  he  wrecked  a  great  party  in  a  country 
where  great  parties  form  the  main  pledge  for  the  due  repre- 
sentation of  political  opinion,  and  under  a  system  where  they 
remain  the  chief  preventive  against  public  corruption. 

The  first  two  Georges  had  reigned  over  the  towns,  but  not 
over  the  country.  After  the  Reform  Bill  it  seemed  as  though 
the  great  cities  themselves  would  swamp  the  land.  How  was 
Sir  Robert  to  save  the  situation  in  1834.?  Speaking  with 
{respect  for  Sir  Robert,  but  with  contempt  for  his  "  Tamworth 
Manifesto,"  Disraeli,  in  his  discussion  of  that  famous  document, 
repeats  his  message  once  more :  " .  .  .  There  was  indeed 
considerable  shouting  about  what  they  called  Conservative 
principles  ;  but  the  awkward  question  naturally  arose,  '  What 
will  you  conserve  ? '  The  prerogatives  of  a  Crown,  provided 
they  are  not  exercised  ;  the  independence  of  the  House  of 
Lords,  provided  it  is  not  asserted  ;  the  ecclesiastical  estate, 
provided  it  is  regulated  by  a  commission  of  laymen.  Every- 
thing, in  short,  that  is  established,  as  long  as  it  is  a  phrase 
and  not  a  fact."  ^ 

It  is  thus  that  the  man  of  ideas  is,  in  the  long  run, 
eminently  practical ;  and  it  is  thus,  too,  that  in  the  realm  of 
art  ideas  are  the  surest  realities.  But  here  also  the  immediate 
appeal  constantly  falls  to  the  lot  of  what  is  called  "  realism," 
and  few  feel  what  they  cannot  touch  until  the  popular  voice 
tells  them  that  it  is  "real."  "Madame,"  says  Heine  in  his 
"  Buch  Legrand,"  "  have  you  the  ghost  of  an  idea  what  an 
idea   is  ?     'I   have  put   my  best   ideas   into  this   coat,'  says 

1  With  this  passage  should  be  compared  the  striking  remarks  on 
p.  222  of  The  Political  Biography  of  Lord  George  Bentinck. 


ON   THE    IMAGINATIVE   QUALITY     9 

my  tailor.  My  washerwoman  says  the  parson  has  filled  her 
daughter's  head  with  ideas,  and  unfitted  her  for  anything 
^sensible ;  and  coachman  Pattensen  mumbles  on  every  occa- 
sion, 'That  is  an  idea.'  But  yesterday,  when  I  inquired 
what  he  meant,  he  snarled  out,  '  An  idea  is  just  an  idea ;  it 
is  any  silly  stuff  that  comes  into  one's  head.'  " 

No  memorial  of  Disraeli's  magical  career  can  be  adequate 
without  access  to  the  papers  confided  to  the  late  Lord  Row- 
ton,  as  well  as  to  much  private  and  unpublished  correspond- 
ence. It  is  no  slur  on  the  "  Lives  "  that  have  already  appeared 
to  say  that  they  lack  the  materials  for  a  complete  picture 
The  best  of  these  beyond  question  is  Mr.  Froude's  ;  but  not 
only  is  it  tinged  with  considerable  prejudice,  but  it  is  very 
faulty  in  its  facts  ;  and,  moreover,  in  common  with  Mr.  Bryce's 
cursory  essay  and  Herr  Brandes's  minuter  study,  it  has 
perhaps  fallen  into  the  error  of  misreading  Disraeli's  mature 
character  and  career  from  isolated  and  indiscriminate  use  of 
such  sidelights  as  they  are  pleased  to  discover  in  his  earliest 
novels.  To  trace  Disraeli's  development,  it  is  necessary  to 
follow  the  long  and  continuous  thread  of  his  words  and  actions, 
to  consider  the  changes  experienced  during  the  fifty  years  of 
his  political  outlook  in  England  and  in  Europe,  and  to  ascer- 
tain how  many  of  these  tendencies  were  foreseen,  produced, 
or  modified  by  him.  The  criticisms  current  are  either  those 
of  men  (often  partisans)  who  lack  this  length  of  view,  and 
interpret  the  latter  manifestations  of  Disraeli's  genius,  with 
which  alone  they  are  even  outwardly  acquainted,  in  the  light 
of  preconceived  notions,  or  the  few  circulated  comparatively 
early  in  his  career,  before  its  eventual  drift  was  revealed,  and 
while  the  full  blaze  of  hostile  bitterness  was  raging.  There 
exists,  it  is  true,  a  most  able,  a  most  appreciative,  a  most 
detailed  account  of  his  political  career,  compiled  by  Mr. 
Ewald  shortly  after  Lord  Beaconsfield's  death,  but  this  is 
mainly  a  long  parliamentary  chronicle.  Mr.  Kebbel's  en- 
lightening edition  of  selected  speeches  is  illustrative  though 
limited.  To  both  of  these,  among  many  other  sources,  direct 
and  indirect,  I  here  gratefully  acknowledge  my  obligation. 

A   real    biography,   therefore,    is    at   present   impossible. 
Disraeli's  acknowledged  debt  to  his  darling  sister  and  devoted 


lo  DISRAELI 

wife  ("  Women,"  he  has  said,  "  are  the  priestesses  of  pre- 
destination ")  ;  his  correspondence  and  commerce  with  many 
eminent  men,  including  both  Louis  Philippe  and  Napoleon 
III. ;  his  letters  to  our  late  Queen  ;  his  notes  of  policy  ;  the 
rough  drafts  for  compositions,  both  literary  and  parliamentary  ; 
his  State  papers  and  official  memoranda  ;  his  relations  to 
many  men  of  letters  and  leading  ;  such  known,  though  un- 
published, correspondence  as  even  that  with  Mrs.  Williams  ; 
the  glimpses  of  him  as  a  youth  through  Mrs.  Austin,  Bulwer, 
Lord  Strangford,  the  Sheridans,  with  many  others  ;  in  his 
age,  through  a  privileged  circle  of  distinguished  and  devoted 
associates — all  these,  and  many  more,  must  be  pressed  into 
service  if  even  the  rudiments  are  to  be  portrayed.  And  none 
of  these  are  yet  available. 

I  have  therefore  thought  that,  pending  such  an  enterprise, 
some  account,  however  imperfect,  of  the  ideas  that  governed 
him  throughout — a  slight  biography,  as  it  were,  of  his  mind — 
might  prove  acceptable.  It  will  endeavour  to  depict  the 
spirit  of  his  attitude  to  the  world  in  which  he  moved  and  for 
which  he  worked.  It  will  aim  at  representing  the  temperature 
of  his  opinions  immanent  alike  in  his  writings  and  speeches. 
His  utterance  was  never  bounded  b}^  the  mere  occasion,  and 
light  and  guidance  may  be  found  in  it  for  the  problems  of 
to-day.  In  most  that  he  wrote  or  said,  a  certain  swell  of  soul, 
a  sweep  and  stretch  of  mind  are  strikingly  manifest. 

"  How  very  seldom,"  he  has  written,  "  do  you  encounter  in 
the  world  a  man  of  great  abilities,  acquirements,  experience, 
who  will  unmask  his  mind,  tinhitton  his  brains,  and  pour  forth 
in  careless  and  picturesque  phrase  all  the  results  of  his  studies 
and  observations,  his  knowledge  of  men,  books,  and  nature !  " 
Such  a  contribution  is  anyhow  feasible,  and  is  fraught  with 
more  than  even  the  glamour  linked  with  the  person  by  whom 
these  ideas  were  clothed  in  words  and  deeds.  For  principles 
are  applied  ideas  ;  habits  are  applied  principles.  Disraeli's 
ideas  have,  to  some  extent,  become  ruling  principles, 
several  of  them  are  at  this  moment  national  habits  ;  while 
some  of  them,  unachieved  during  his  lifetime,  seem  in  process 
of  accomplishment.  Disraeli  was  a  poet— one  of  those  "un- 
acknowledged legislators  of  the  world"  described  by  "Herbert" 


ON  THE   IMAGINATIVE    QUALITY    ii 

in  Venetia ;  but  his  imaginative  fancy  was  allied  to  a  very 
strong  character.  It  is  a  rare  combination.  To  Bolingbroke's 
youthful  genius  he  united  that  force  of  will  and  purpose  for 
which  Bolingbroke  had  long  to  wait,  and  which,  perhaps,  he 
never  fully  attained.  This  analogy  was  pressed  on  Disraeli 
on  the  threshold  of  his  career  by  a  distinguished  friend. 

Above  all  things  Disraeli  was  a  personality.  Personality 
is  independent  of  training,  except  in  the  rare  cases  where 
education  accords  with  predisposition.  It  is  the  will.  And 
in  authorship,  when  expression  chimes  with  intention,  it  is  the 
style.  Personality  is  the  clue  to  history,  for  events  proceed 
from  character,  more  than  character  from  events.  Comment- 
ing on  the  adoption  of  the  "  Charter"  by  non-chartists  groan- 
ing under  the  injustice  of  industrial  slavery,  Disraeli  observes 
most  truly  :  "...  But  all  this  had  been  brought  about,  as 
most  of  the  great  events  of  history,  by  the  unexpected  and 
unobserved  influence  of  individual  character."  Personality  is 
the  salt  of  politics  ;  it  is  the  spirit  of  our  party  system  ;  and 
woe  betide  every  era  in  England  when  figure-heads  replace 
head-figures.  It  is  an  atmosphere  enchanting  the  land- 
scape. "...  It  is  the  personal  that  interests  mankind,  that 
fires  their  imagination  and  wins  their  hearts.  A  cause  is  a 
great  abstraction,  and  fit  only  for  students :  embodied  in  a 
party,  it  stirs  men  to  action  ;  but  place  at  the  head  of  that 
party  a  leader  who  can  inspire  enthusiasm,  he  commands  the 
world.  ..."  Association,  groups,  co-operative  principles, 
these  are  the  mechanisms  invented  by  the  brain,  and  guided 
by  the  hand  of  individuality,  the  fuel  that  individuahty 
gathers  and  enkindles.  Without  it  they  remain  dead 
lumber,  and  can  never  of  themselves  prove  originative  forces. 
What  men  crave  is,  once  more  in  Disraeli's  parlance,  "...  A 
primordial  and  creative  mind  ;  one  that  will  say  to  his  fellows, 
'  Behold,  God  has  given  me  thought,  I  have  discovered  truth, 
and  you  shall  believe.' "  Personality  is  the  contradiction  of 
the  mechanical  and  of  the  dead  level  ;  it  is  the  soul  of 
influence.  How  depressing  is  the  reverse  side  of  the  medal ! — 
"  Duncan  Macmorrogh"  (the  utilitarian  in  The  Yoiing  Duke)^ 
"cut  up  the  Creation  and  got  a  name.  His  attack  upon 
mountains  was  most  violent,  and  proved,  by  its  personality 


12  DISRAELI 

that  he  had  come  from  the  lowlands.  He  demonstrated  the 
inability  of  all  elevation,  and  declared  that  the  Andes  were 
the  aristocracy  of  the  c^lobe.  Rivers  he  rather  patronised, 
but  flowers  he  quite  pulled  to  pieces,  and  proved  them  to  be 
the  most  useless  of  existences.  .  .  .  He  informed  us  that  we 
were  quite  wrong  in  supposing  ourselves  to  be  the  miracle  of 
the  Creation.  On  the  contrary,  he  avowed  that  already  there 
were  various  pieces  of  machinery  of  far  more  importance  than 
man  ;  and  he  had  no  doubt  in  time  that  a  superior  race  would 
arise,  got  by  a  steam-engine  on  a  spinning-jenny.  ..." 

To  impress  his  ideas  through  his  will  on  his  generation, 
was  Disraeli's  ruling  purpose  from  the  first  ;  but  to  attain  the 
position  which  would  entitle  him  to  do  so  he  never  regarded 
as  more  than  a  ladder  towards  his  main  ambition.  Ambi- 
tion ^  spurred  him  from  the  first.  But,  as  the  present  Duke  of 
Devonshire  generously  owned  in  the  heat  of  party  contest, 
Disraeli  was  never  prompted  by  mean  or  unworthy  motives  ; 
and— added  the  speaker — it  would  be  the  merest  cant  to 
pretend  that  honourable  and  honest  ambition  is  not  a  main 
incitement  to  public  life.  At  the  outset  he  was  convinced 
of  a  mission,  and  the  visions  over  which  he  had  long  brooded 
in  silent  solitude  became  realised  in  the  world  of  action. 
Both  reverie  and  energy  alternated  even  in  his  boyi,sh  being. 
"  I  fully  believed  myself  the  object  of  an  omnipotent  Bestiny 
over  which  I  had  no  control " — and  yet  "  Bestiny  bears  us 
to  our  lot,  and  Destiny  is  perhaps  our  own  will."  "...  There 
arose  in  my  mind  a  desire  to  create  things  beautiful  as  that 
golden  star  ; "  and  yet  "...  Nor  could .  I  conceive  that 
anything  could  tempt  me  from  my  solitude  .  .  .  but  the 
strong  conviction  that  the  fortunes  of  my  race  depended 
on  my  effort,  or  that  I  could  materially  forward  that  great 
amelioration,  ...  in  the  practicability  of  which  I  devoutly 
believe."  As  a  boy  he  dreamed  of  "shaking  thrones  and 
founding    empires ; "    and    yet,   he    felt  that   he    must    not 

1  "  It  was  that  noble  ambition,  the  highest  and  the  best,  that  must  be 
born  in  the  heart  and  organised  in  the  brain,  which  will  not  let  a  man 
be  content  unless  his  intellectual  power  is  recognised  by  his  race,  and 
desires  that  it  should  contribute  to  their  welfare."  Thus  he  speaks  of 
Coningsby,  the  castle  of  whose  fathers  is  not  to  be  one  "  of  Indolence." 


ON   THE    IMAGINATIVE   QUALITY     13 

"  pass  "  his  "  days  like  a  ghost  gliding  in  a  vision."  These 
are  among  the  echoes  and  glimpses  afforded  by  his  earliest 
fiction  of  his  earliest  self,  and  to  this  topic  I  shall  recur  in  my 
last  chapter.  I  mention  them  here  for  a  material  reason.  In 
treating  his  thoughts  we  must  distinguish  between  those 
notions  which  merely  concern  success  or  career,  and  those 
ideas  which  assured  victory  was  to  achieve.  Nor  should  we 
omit  the  very  vital  distinction  between  personality  and  egot- 
ism, for  confusion  in  this  regard  constantly  obscures  our 
estimates.  Individuality  with  the  forces  that  make  for  it  is 
not  "  individualism  ; "  yet  the  two  are  often  confused. 

The  essential  egotist  is  a  sort  of  buccaneer.  He  roams 
the  seas  to  rifle  cargoes,  and  his  conquests  are  the  spoils  of 
a  freebooter.  He  seeks  to  exploit  society  for  his  own  benefit 
— to  burn  down  his  neighbour's  roof-tree  that  he  may  boil 
his  egg.  He  gives  nothing  that  he  can  keep,  and  takes  all 
he  can  grasp  by  whatever  methods  may  advantage  him.  He 
leaves  the  worldjoorer  when  he  goes,  and  as  he  leaves  it, 
he  wishes  it.     In  Cowper's  words — 

"  Cruel  is  all  he  does.    'Tis  quenchless  thirst 
Of  ruinous  ebriety  that  prompts 
His  every  action,  and  imbrutes  the  man." 

The  man,  on  the  other  hand,  of  overwhelming  personality, 
aspires  honourably  to  power,  the  very  condition  of  which  in 
his  eyes  is  to  guide  and  elevate  the  country  which  entrusts 
him  with  it.  The  responsibihty  of  privilege,  great  position  on 
the  tenure  of  great  duties,  ambition  not  as  a  right  but  as  the 
sole  means  of  enforcing  his  ideals — these  are  his  character- 
istics. He  never  c»vcts  place  without  power,  and  never  power 
without  influence  ;  whereas  some  kind  of  covetousness  is 
essential  to  the  egotist.  "  He  who  has  great  honours," 
Disraeli  has  urged,  "  must  have  great  burdens."  And  again  : 
"...  My  conception,"  he  said,  in  a  signal  speech  during  1846, 
"  of  a  great  statesman  is  of  one  who  represents  a  great  idea ; 
an  idea  which  he  may  and  can  impress  on  the  mind  and 
conscience  of  a  nation.  .  .  .  That  is  a  grand,  that  is  indeed 
an  heroic  position.  But  I  care  not  what  may  be  the  position 
of  a  man  who  never  originates  an  idea — a  watcher  of  the 
atmosphere,  a  man  who  .  .  .  takes  his  observations,  and  when 


14  DISRAELI 

he  finds  the  wind  in  a  certain  quarter  trims  to  suit  it.  Such  a 
person  may  be  a  powerful  Minister,  but  he  is  no  more  a  great 
statesman  than  the  man  who  gets  up  behind  a  carriage  is  a 
great  whip.  Both  are  disciples  of  progress  ;  both  perhaps 
may  get  a  good  place.  But  how  far  the  original  momentum 
is  indebted  to  their  powers,  and  how  far  their  guiding 
prudence  regulates  the  lash  or  the  rein,  it  is  not  necessary 
for  me  to  notice." 

Disraeli  never  stooped  to  trim ;  he  always  aspired  to 
steer.  When  he  started  as  a  brilliant  author,  electric  with 
ideas  derided  but  since  accepted — as  an  imaginative  origi- 
nator, "full  of  deep  passions  and  deep  thoughts" — it  would 
have  been  easy  for  him  to  have  followed  the  triumphal  car 
of  the  Whigs  who  invited  him.^  It  would  have  been  easy  for 
him  to  have  suited  himself  to  Sir  Robert  Peel's  vicissitudes  of 
private,  and  desertion  of  public  opinion,  embodied  in  a  great 
party  which  had  raised  him  to  power.  In  obeying  again  the 
central  ideas  which  quickened  him  from  the  first,  Disraeli  broke 
up  the  "  Young  England  "  party,  which  looked  up  to  and 
cheered  him,  whose  main  objects  he  inspired,  and  eventually 
realised.  And  in  1867,  as  we  shall  see,  so  far  from  "  dishing  " 
the  Liberals  with  their  own  measure  of  Reform,  he  carried,  in 
the  teeth  of  his  own  supporters,  one  on  lines  peculiar  to  his 
own  perpetual  view  of  the  subject,  and  at  length  achieved 
what  he  had  urged  in  the  'thirties,  the  'forties,  and  the  'fifties. 
In  the  stubborn  pursuit  of  his  aims  Disraeli  even  courted 
unpopularity.  On  every  occasion  when  the  object  of  the  Jew 
bill  was  involved  with  other  measures  which  he  considered 
prejudical  to  its  due  interests,  he  risked  misconstruction  by 
withholding  his  vote.  During  the  long  spell  of  1859-66, 
when  a  dispirited,  and  sometimes  disloyal  following  often  left 
him  alone  in  his  seat,  he  continued  the  pronouncements  alike 
and  the  reticence  which  they  disrelished.  During  the  six 
years  previous  he  dared  to  offend  them  equally  by  hammer- 
ing the  Government's  foreign  policy,  and  insisting  on  his  own 
convictions.  Nobody,  again,  more  regretted  the  precipitancy 
of  Lord  Derby  in  1852,  although  his  rash  assumption  of  office 

1  Through  Lord  Durham,  Lord  J,  Russell,  and  Lord  Melbourne,  whom 
he  met  early  at  Mrs.  Norton's, 


ON  THE   IMAGINATIVE  QUALITY     15 

afforded  Disraeli  his  first  hard-won  opportunity  of  leadership. 
During  three  separate  sets  of  discreditable  intrigues  to  dethrone 
him,  he  kept  place,  counsel,  and  temper  without  wheedling  con- 
cessions or  recriminating  revenges,  though  none  could  strike 
home  harder  when  he  chose. 

"...  Ah,  why  should  such  enthusiasm  ever  die  ?  Life  is 
too  short  to  be  little,  Man  is  never  so  manly  as  when  he 
feels  deeply,  acts  boldly,  and  expresses  himself  with  frankness 
and  with  fervour." 

The  fact  that  both  the  mere  egotist,  and  the  man  of 
intense  personality,  must,  from  the  need  of  their  respectively 
low  and  lofty  concentrations,  be  self-centred,  and  infuse  their 
temperaments  into  the  objects  of  their  energy,  favours,  it  is 
true,  the  mistake  to  which  I  have  referred.  But  the  one  is 
pettily  fixed  on  self,  the  other  intent  on  ideals.  He  leads  a 
life  of  ideas  which  form  his  atmosphere,  and  which  emanate 
from  it.  He  mounts  the  chariot  to  drive  it  to  a  distant  goal, 
while  the  other  borrows  or  pilfers  it  for  his  own  immediate 
convenience.  Egoism — if  I  may  coin  a  distinction — is  one 
thing,  egotism  another.  Goethe  was  an  egoist — he  is  full  of 
a  radiating  self;  but  such  egoism  is,  if  we  reflect,  the  very 
opposite  of  the  egotist,  who  is  full  of  a  shrivelled  selfishness. 
Such  were  the  later  phases  of  Napoleon,  who  changed  from  a 
generous  imparter  into  an  absorbing  monopolist.  That  was 
egotism.  All  genius,  however,  has  been  egoist,  and  ever  will 
be  ;  for  genius  is  at  once  the  ear,  sensitive  to  the  subtlest 
appeals  of  existence,  and  the  voice  which  constrains  others 
to  enter  the  realm  of  its  ideas.  Its  sensitiveness  is  part  of 
its  strength,  and  in  this  respect  it  shares  the  self-conscious- 
ness of  the  artist.  It  is  in  the  real  sense  auto-suggestive  ;  it 
implants  ideas  which  its  will  generates  into  events.  It  is  in 
some  degree  that — 

"...  which  many  people  take  for  want  of  heart. 

They  err.— 'Tis  merely  what  is  called  mobility, 
A  thing  of  temperament,  and  not  of  art, 

Though  seeming  so  from  its  supposed  facility  ; 
And  false  though  true  ;  for  surely  they're  sincerest 
Who  are  strongly  acted  on  by  what  is  nearest." 

And  its  faults,  as  I  shall  show  in  my  closing  chapter,  are 
associated  with  its  very  qualities. 


1 6  DISRAELI 

Genius  is  both  light  and  heat ;  it  combines  enthusiasm 
with  insight.  Such  a  genius  was  Disraeli.  He  was  eminently 
a  man  of  ideas,  and  not  merely  of  abnormal  perceptions. 
This  distinction  again  is  material,  and  too  often  ignored. 

The  eminently  perceptive  man  is  at  root  a  critic,  while 
the  man  of  ideas  is  by  prerogative  a  creator  ;  and  yet  the 
quick  perceiver  is  often  mistaken  for  a  creative  genius,  and 
keenness  confused  with  originality.  In  politics,  for  instance, 
this  was  the  case  with  such  different  beings  as  Peel  and 
Gambetta ;  in  literature,  with  Addison  and  Arnold  ;  in  art, 
with  Kneller  and  Lawrence.  Disraeli's  ideas  were  at  once 
his  creations  and  companions,  and  he  moved  in  their  inner 
circle  with  a  sort  of  extravagant  intensity.  They  were  no 
shadows.  He  was  convinced  of  their  substance  almost  to 
fatalism,  and  his  immense  will-power  forced  and  projected  them 
into  movement.  In  his  extreme  youth,  before  his  character 
had  matured,  these  ideas  flickered  as  fantasies.  The  restless- 
ness of  a  volition  felt,  but  not  yet  freed  or  directed,  caused 
some  masquerade  of  guise,  and  a  perpetual  strain  on  the 
intuition  that  sought  to  forestall  experience.  Realisation  alone, 
with  power  and  experience,  brought  repose.  But  at  all  periods 
an  idea  that  had  once  seized  him  tinged  his  whole  being. 
Its  reality  haunted  him  till  he  had  given  it  place  and  shape.^ 
An  inward  and  ideal  energy  possessed  him.  Ideas  were  for 
him  far  more  tangible,  even  far  more  sociable,  than  the  out- 
ward and  fleeting  phantasms  around  him,  as  is  evidenced  in 
his  fiction  by  his  constant  habit  of  transferring  environment 
and  transplanting  personalities  to  accentuate  their  ideal 
essence.  Thus,  in  Vcnetia,  the  soul  of  Lady  Byron  animates 
the  form  of  Shelley's  wife,  while  the  very  date  is  put  back 
some  thirty  years,  that  Shelley  himself  might  be  enabled  to 
have  braved  in  action  what  he  mused  in  poetry.  So,  again, 
in  Contarini,  the  hero's  development  blends  something  of  his 
own  with  something  of  his  father's  character ;  while  Baron 
Fleming  is  his  grandfather  reincarnated  as  a  noble.^    About 

'  I  may  mention  that  when  he  wrote  Alarcos  in  six  weeks,  an 
intimate  (I  think  Lord  Strangford)  asked  him  why  he  had  turned  his 
energies  to  tragedy.  "  The  idea  haunted  me,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  I 
could  not  rest  until  I  had  given  it  expression." 

■  There  is  a  touch  also  of  his  grandfather  in  the  "  Mr.  Putney  Giles  '  • 


ON  THE   IMAGINATIVE  QUALITY     17 

the  ironies  of  these,  the  arabesques  of  his  playful  fancy  flick- 
ered. For  him  they  were  mostly  the  pretexts  of  things,  but 
ideas  were  the  causes,  and  he  loved  to  contrast  "  the  pretext 
with  the  cause  ;  "  but  even  here  romance  blent  with  irony, 
and  invested  the  seemingly  trivial  with  wonder.  Some,  too, 
of  his  ideas  hovered,  as  it  were,  over  the  present  scene,  in  a 
flight  bound  other-whither  and  beyond.  In  a  word,  Disraeli 
was  an  artist,  conscious  and  confident  of  an  over-mastering 
call.  As  he  has  written  in  a  striking  passage  from  the  work 
of  his  youth,  Contarini  Fleming :  "  I  never  labour  to  delude 
myself ;  and  never  gloss  over  my  own  faults.  I  exaggerate 
them  ;  for  I  can  afford  to  face  truth,  because  I  feel  capable 
of  improvement.  ...  I  am  never  satisfied.  .  .  .  The  very 
exercise  of  power  teaches  me  that  it  may  be  wielded  for  a 
greater  purpose.  .  .  .  No  one  could  be  influenced  by  a 
greater  desire  of  knowledge,  a  greater  passion  for  the  beauti- 
ful, or  a  deeper  regard  for  his  fellow-creatures.  ...  I  want 
no  false  fame.  It  would  be  no  delight  to  me  to  be  con- 
sidered a  prophet,  were  I  conscious  of  being  an  impostor. 
I  ever  wish  to  be  undeceived  ;  but  if  I  possess  the  organisa- 
tion of  a  poet,  no  one  can  prevent  me  from  exercising  my 
faculty,  any  more  than  he  can  rob  the  courser  of  his  fleet- 
ness,  or  the  nightingale  of  her  song." 

The  "  ill-regulated  will,"  "  the  undercurrent  of  feelings  he 
was  then  unable  to  express,"  portrayed  in  Vivian  Griy,  de- 
veloped into  the  higher  and  more  elevating  purposes  of  which 
his  transforming  imagination  was  all  along  capable.  That 
very  book  contained  the  germs  of  what  its  composition  re- 
vealed to  his  own  mind — that  out  of  a  young  adventurer  with 
purpose  and  genius,  the  school  of  life  forms  a  strong  character 
and  a  great  man.  In  Contarini  Fleming  the  irresistible  power 
of  predisposition,  the  hollowness  of  a  nurture  which  ignores 
it  and  substitutes  "  words "  for  "  ideas,"  the  interactions  of 
imagination  and  experience,  the  fatuity  of  contradicting  or 
overstraining  Nature,  are  pursued  ;  nor,  as  regards  this  novel, 
should  it  be  forgotten  that  in  some  portions  of  its  analysis 

oiLothair,  who  :  "  never  made  difficulties,  but  always  overcame  them."   In 
both  "  Miriam  "  {Alroy)  "  Venetia  "  and  "  Myra  "  (Endymwn)  there  are 
direct  transferences  from  his  sister's  temperament  ;  and  "  St.  Barbe  "  is  far 
more  Hay  ward  than  Thackeray. 
c 


i8  DISRAELI 

there  are  traces  in  allusive  undertone  to  the  fatah'ties  of  the 
great  and  stricken  Dean  of  St.  Patrick's,^ 

In  Disraeli's  case,  as  so  often  before  him,  "the  dreaming 
part  of  mankind"  has  "prevailed  over  the  waking."  His 
flouted  dreams  came  true.  They  still  hold  sway.  To  give 
effectual  substance  to  these  higher  and  abiding  dreams,  those 
other  dreams  of  ascendency,  through  which  alone  his  will 
could  realise  his  ideas,  were  also  verified.  "  It  is  the  will " — 
he  speaks  by  the  lips  of  the  young  "  Alroy  " — "  that  is  father 
to  the  deed,  and  he  who  broods  over  some  long  idea,  however 
wild,  will  find  his  dream  was  but  the  prophecy  of  coming  fate." 
"  All  is  ordained,"  he  had  said  as  a  stripling,  "  yet  man  is  master 
of  his  own  actions."  ^  Disraeli's  career  was  itself  a  romance — 
a  romance  of  the  will  that  defies  circumstance,  and  moulds 
the  soil  where  ideas  are  to  flourish.  An  inward,  personal 
energy  is  the  parent  of  faith,  and  faith  in  oneself  is  the  sole 
security  for  the  issue  of  faith  among  others.  He  lived  to 
triumph,  but  not  in  order  to  triumph  ;  and  he  remains  a 
standing  protest  against  those  who  believe  in  cliques  and  dis- 
believe in  personal  influence.  The  former  are  only  compact 
in  appearance  ;  they  are  unsympathetic  associations,  welded 
together  by  interest  alone.  Joint-stock  enterprise  is  not 
fellowship,  and  the  test  of  direction  is  liability.  Nor  is  it 
without  significance  that  "Fortune,"  even  in  the  ancient 
world  a  real  though  blind  goddess,  has  come,  in  the  modern, 
to  mean  little  more  than  cash  ;  so  that  capital  leans  away 
from  labour,  plutocracy  is  cemented,  solidarity  declines,  and 
worth  too  often  is  resolved  by  the  question,  "Worth  how 
much.?" 

It  is  this  idea  of  personality  that  lies  at  the  very  root  of 
united  nationality  ;  for  a  nation  is  an  idealised  individual,  no 
aggregate  of  atoms.  Still  less  is  it  the  experimenting  room 
of  doctrinaires  or  the  dumping-ground  of  the  Tapers  and 
Tadpoles,  the  Paul  Prys  of  politics,  who  "whisper  nothings 
that  sound  like  somethings  ;  "  or  of  those  "  Marneys,"  "  Fitz- 
Aquitaines,"  and  "  Mowbrays  "  who  deem  that  the  end  of  an 
administration  is  "  two  garters  to  begin  with  ; "  or  again  of 

'  Cf.  the  moralisations  in  its  strange  account  of  the  hero's  malady. 
2  The  Infernal  Marriage. 


ox  THE   IMAGINATIVE  QUALITY     19 

"  the  good  old  gentlemanlike  times,  when  Members  of  Parlia- 
ment had  nobody  to  please,  and  Ministers  of  State  nothing 
to  do  ; "  of  those  who,  like  "  Rigby,"  mistake  peddling  with 
constituencies  for  representing  the  country  ;  or  of  those  petty 
placemen  to  whom,  as  he  has  said,  party  means  the  machinery 
for  receiving  ";^i20o"  a  year,  career  the  pursuit  of  it,  and 
success  its  attainment. 

"...  I  prefer"  (the  passage  is  from  Sybil)  "association 
to  gregariousness.  ...  It  is  a  community  of  purpose  that 
constitutes  society  .  .  .  without  that  men  may  be  drawn  into 
contiguity,  but  they  will  continue  virtually  isolated.  .  .  ." 
What  does  this  imply  but  the  sympathetic  power  of  person- 
ality ?  The  more  individual  societies  become,  the  greater 
their  efficacy.  The  less  individual  they  are  the  more  they 
display  the  tameness  and  unfruitfulness  that  enfeeble  a 
copy. 

"But  what  is  an  individual,"  exclaimed  "Coningsby," 
"  against  a  vast  public  opinion  1 " 

"  Divine,"  said  the  stranger.  "  God  made  man  in  His  own 
image  ;  but  the  Public  is  made  by  newspapers.  Members  of 
Parliament,  excise  officers.  Poor  Law  guardians.  Would 
Philip  have  succeeded,  if  Epaminondas  had  not  been  slain  ? 
And  if  Philip  had  not  succeeded  ?  Would  Prussia  have 
existed,  had  Frederick  not  been  born  ?  And  if  Frederick 
had  not  been  born  }  What  would  have  been  the  fate  of  the 
Stuarts,  if  Prince  Henry  had  not  died,  and  Charles  I.,  as  was 
intended,  had  been  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  }  " 

This  was  written  in  1844.  Since  then,  would  Germany 
have  been  united  if  Bismarck  had  not  been  born  .?  And  if 
Bismarck  had  not  been  born?  In  1865  a  powerful  party, 
promising  success,  reinforced  by  commanding  talent,  and  con- 
certing an  intelligible  plan  with  immense  vigour,  began  to 
demand  the  disintegration  of  Great  Britain.  And  if  Disraeli 
had  not  been  born  ^ 

Nothing  is  more  striking  in  modern  parliamentary  life 
than  the  growing  neglect  of  the  past.  Great  issues  are  mooted 
by  men  ignorant  of,  or  ignoring,  their  historical  origin.  Young 
members  discuss  weighty  problems  with  no  study  save  that  of 


20  DISRAELI 

omniscience.  The  ancestry  of  events  is  disregarded.  Develop- 
ment is  relegated  to  musty  students  and  mouldy  volumes. 
The  fact  that  statesmanship  is  able  to  look  forward  because 
it  has  already  looked  back,  is  flouted  or  forgotten.  Public 
interest  is  gradually  being  withdrawn  from  debate,  just  because 
it  is  getting  out  of  touch  with  the  organic  changes  of  national 
life.  The  genius  which  transfigures  facts  with  imagination  has 
been  replaced  by  the  opportunism  which  invests  emptiness 
with  solemnity  ;  and  this,  in  a  country  where  national  growth 
depends  on  continuous  tradition. 

The  utterances  of  Disraeli  from  the  early  'twenties  to  the 
latest  'seventies  display  a  wonderful  harmony  of  coherence 
in  progress.  They  form  one  long  suite  of  variations  on 
the  central  motif  of  persistent  and  consistent  ideas.  To 
understand  them  aright  one  must  view  them  successively,  both 
in  his  books  and  his  speeches,  which  illustrate  each  other ; 
nor  in  so  doing  should  the  contexts  of  personal  development, 
events  private  as  well  as  public,  be  lost  from  sight. 

This  I  have  endeavoured  to  accomplish  in  the  following 
chapters.  I  have  classified  their  themes  in  groups  broad  enough 
to  admit  of  kindred  topics.  After  a  fresh  portrait  of  Disraeli's 
personality,  I  treat  first  of  his  constitutional  ideas,  because 
these  are  at  the  root  of  his  political  standpoint  ;  they  underlie, 
too,  his  conception  of  the  State.  Then  follows  his  attitude 
towards  Labour  and  the  causes  it  involved.  Next  come  his 
distinctive  views  on  Church  and  Christianity ;  his  views, 
equally  distinctive,  on  Monarchy  occupy  a  separate  chapter. 
Colonies,  Empire,  and  Foreign  Policy  are  then  grouped 
together  ;  and  it  may  excite  surprise  to  mark  the  earliness 
and  the  correctness  of  his  prophecies.  Under  this  head  I 
also  consider  his  thoughts  on  India.  America  and  Ireland 
succeed  ;  and  here  again  his  justified  originality  is  most  re- 
markable. Perhaps  the  light  chapters  on  Society,  Literature, 
Wit,  Humour,  and  Romance,  with  the  closing  study  of  Career, 
may  be  considered  not  the  least  suggestive.  I  have  not  drawn 
on  Mr.  Meynell's  delightful  "  Disraeliana "  (the  pleasure  of 
reading  which  I  purposely  postponed),  because  I  wished  this 
portraiture  of  the  man  and  his  mind  to  be  wholly  original. 


CHAPTER   I 

DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY 

"      A     GREAT  mind  that  thinks  and  feels  is  never  incon- 

/  \  sistent  and  never  insincere.  .  .  .  Insincerity  is  the 
±.  \.  vice  of  a  fool,  and  inconsistency  the  blunder  of  a 
knave.  .  .  .  Let  us  not  forget  an  influence  too  much 
underrated  in  this  age  of  bustling  mediocrity — the  influence  of 
individual  character.  Great  spirits  may  yet  arise  to  guide  the 
groaning  helm  through  the  world  of  troubled  waters — spirits 
whose  proud  destiny  it  may  still  be  at  the  same  time  to  main- 
tain the  glory  of  the  Empire  and  to  secure  the  happiness  of 
the  people." 

So  wrote  "Disraeli  the  Younger"  during  the  perplexed 
crisis  of  1833  in  his  rare  pamphlet,  What  is  hef^  which 
embodies  his  own  large  attitude.  The  sentence  is  character- 
istic and  prophetic.  Its  last  words  were  repeated  more  than 
forty  years  afterwards  in  the  message  of  farewell  to  his  con- 
stituents, when  he  quitted  the  lively  scene  of  his  triumphs  for 
that  grave  assemblage,  of  which  he  once  said  that  its  aptitudes 
were  best  rehearsed  among  the  tombstones. 

In  my  last  three  chapters  I  shall  touch  on  some  unique 
phases  of  his  boyhood,  and  outline  several  of  his  relations  to 
his  home,  to  society,  to  literature,  to  character,  and  to  career. 
But  here  I  shall  attempt  a  less  detailed  account  of  his  indi- 
viduality and  of  the  main  ideas  which  flowed  from  it. 

And  first  let  me  venture  on  two  glimpses — one  of  his 
youth,  the  other  of  his  age. 

*  So  called  owing  to  Lord  Grey's  query  in  a  letter.     His  brother  had 
just  opposed  the  young  Disraeli,  standing  as  an  "  independent "  and  a 
"  reformer"  at  High  (or  "  Chepping  ")  Wycombe  ;  and  his  brilliant  speeches 
on  the  hustings  had  been  republished  as  The  Crisis  Examined. 
21 


22  DISRAELI 

It  is  not  difficult  to  collect  from  many  scattered  present- 
ments some  likeness  of 

"  The  wondrous  boy 
That  wrote  Alroy." 

Imagine,  then,  a  romantic  figure,  a  Southern  shape  in  a 
Northern  setting,  a  kind  of  Mediterranean  Byron  ;  for  the 
stock  of  the  Disraelis  hailed  from  the  Sephardim — Semites 
who  had  never  quitted  the  midland  coasts,  and  were  powerful 
in  Spain  before  the  Goths.  The  form  is  lithe  and  slender, 
with  an  air  of  repressed  alertness.  The  stature,  above  middle 
height.  The  head,  long  and  compact ;  its  curls,  fantastic. 
The  oval  face,  pale  rather  than  pallid,  with  dark  almond  eyes 
of  unusual  depth,  size,  and  lustre  under  a  veil  of  drooping 
lashes.  The  chin,  pointed  with  decision.  The  expression 
holds  one,  by  turns  keen  and  pensive  ;  about  it  hovers  a 
strange  sense  of  inner  watchfulness  and  ambushed  irony,  half 
mocking  in  defiance,  half  eager  with  conscious  power.  A 
languid  reserve  marks  his  bearing  ;  it  conceals  a  smouldering 
vehemence  ;  its  observant  silence  prepares  amazement  directly 
interest  excites  intercourse.  Then  indeed  the  scimitar,  as  it 
were,  flashes  forth  unsheathed,  and  dazzles  by  its  breathless 
fence  of  words  with  ideas.  This  ardour  is  not  always  pleasant ; 
it  breathes  of  storm  ;  it  speaks  out  elemental  passions  and 
grates  against  the  smooth  edges  of  civilisation.  In  the 
London  medley  he,  like  his  friend  Bulwer,  studies  a  purposed 
posture.  Dandyism  and  listlessness  mask  unsleeping  energy. 
But  at  Bradenham,  his  constant  retreat,  the  "  Hurstley "  of 
his  last  novel,  all  is  natural  and  unconstrained.  Here  at 
least  he  is  free.  Here  he  "  drives  the  quill "  with  his  famous 
father,  reads  and  rides,  meditates  and  is  mirthful.  Here,  with 
that  gifted  sister  "  Sa  " — "  Sa,"  a  name  soon  afterwards  doubly 
endeared  to  him  through  Lord  Lyndhurst's  daughter ;  "  Sa," 
who,  while  others  doubt  or  twit,  ever  believes  in  and  heartens 
him — he  dreams,  improvises,  discourses.  The  rest  may  treat 
him  as  a  moonstruck  Bombastes,^  but  his  lofty  visions  are  real 

^  After  he  had  been  articled  to  a  firm  of  solicitors  at  seventeen,  and 
eventually  called  to  the  bar,  his  father  had  wished  him  to  enter  a  govern- 
ment office.     Cf.  Mr.  Lake's  "  Reminiscences." 


ua: 


\  .-.- 


Dl.sRAhLl    THE    YOUNGER 
^//■f>-  a  -water  colour  by  A.  E.  Chalon 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  22, 

to  the  gentle  insight  of  affection.     In  the  language  of  Shake- 
speare's fine  colloquy : — 

"  '  Say  what  thou  art  that  talk'st  of  Kings  and  Queens  ? '  — 
'  More  than  I  seem,  and  less  than  I  was  born  to.' — 
*  Aye,  but  thou  talk'st  as  if  thou  wert  a  King  ! ' — 
'  Why,  so  I  am  in  mind,  and  that's  enough,' " 

Already,  like  one  of  those  his  biting  pen  had  satirised,  he 
too,  it  must  be  owned,  teems  with  "  confidence  in  the  nation 
— and  himself."  There  was  a  daredevilry  about  him,  and  in 
those  days  a  romantic  melancholy,  akin  to  that  of  the  Spanish 
artist  Goya.  Far  behind  have  faded  those  consuming  pangs 
of  boyish  restlessness,  when  fevered  imagination  played 
vaguely  on  inexperience.  Far  behind,  those  schools  of 
"  words  "  which  never  slaked  his  thirst  for  ideas,  and  where  he 
ran  wild  as  rebel  ringleader,^  Far  away  now,  those  boxing 
bouts  witnessed  by  Layard's  mother.  Past,  that  earliest  and 
unpublished  novel  of  Ay  liner  Papillon^  which  Murray  praised 
but  would  not  print.  Past,  that  fugitive  satire  of  the  "  New 
Dunciad,"  which  does  not  deserve  to  remain  waste-paper,^ 
Past,  that  abortive  journal,  which  in  transforming  an  old 
periodical  while  adopting  its  name  was  to  have  revolutionised 
opinion.*  Vanished,  too,  those  first  outbursts  of  unchastened 
brilliance  under  the  favouring  auspices  of  the  Layards'  fair 
kinswoman,  Mrs.  Austin.     And   the  vista  of  his  two  long 

1  Cf.  p.  254. 

2  It  treated  of  a  hero  outlawed  under  the  Alien  Act  by  a  Ministry 
resenting  a  poem  {cf.  Smiles'"  Memoirs  of  John  Murray  "),  Disraeli  had 
also  edited  a  "  history  "  of  Paul  Jones.  Of  his  early  American  pamphlet,  I 
speak  later  on,  A  Mr,  Powles — "  something  in  the  city  " — was  concerned 
in  assisting  both  this  and  the  Representative. 

^  Of  Keats  it  sings — 

"  Who  grasped  the  Theban  shell  and  struck  a  tone, 
No  master  yet  had  wakened — save  its  own," 
*  It  succeeded  a  respectable  pro-Canning  and  pro-Queen-CaroIine 
weekly,  to  which  Disraeli  seems  to  have  contributed  as  a  lad  also.  Its 
foundation  brought  him  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  to  Lockhart,  who  at 
first  disdained  to  be  "  editor,"  but  melted  when  Disraeli  assured  him  that 
he  would  be  "  Director-general"  of  a  controlling  organ.  Only  a  temporary 
breach  with  Murray  was  caused  by  Disraeli's  speedy  withdrawal  from  the 
concern.  But  for  Lockhart,  as  a  "  tenth-rate  novelist,"  Disraeli  expressed 
contempt  in  1833,  when  he  proposed  to  write  for  the.  Editiburgh,  presided 
over  by  Napier.     Cf.  British  Museum,  Add.  MS.  34,616,  f.  45, 


24  DISRAELI 

journeys  have  receded  ;  the  alternate  spells  of  Venice,  the 
Rhine  and  Rome,  and  afterwards  of  Athens,  Constantinople, 
Jerusalem.  Past,  also,  the  strange  malady  for  which  his 
Eastern  travels  proved  the  stranger  cure.  As  he  muses,  the 
ball  is  at  his  feet.  Yet,  when  the  daydream  fades,  is  he, 
perhaps,  after  all,  only  Alnaschar  of  the  broken  glass,  bemoan- 
ing vain  reveries  amid  the  ruined  litter  of  his  overturned 
basket  in  the  jeering  market-place  ?  The  seed-time  of  reflec- 
tion is  over:  he  pants  for  action.  No  more  for  him  the 
beaten  tracks.  Hitherto  he  had  fed  on  books  and  dreams. 
The  former  had  led  him  to  a  pondered  plan,  with  Bolingbroke 
for  clue  and  Pitt  as  example.  The  latter  fired  his  ambition 
— his  presumption — to  realise  them  by  restoring  vanished 
life  to  a  now  mouldering  party — by  suiting  old  forms  to  new 
phases  and  heading  them. 

Next  morning  the  secluded  scholar,  so  friendly  a  contrast 
with  his  daring  son,  is  bound  for  Oxford  to  receive  his  long 
delayed  honours.  This  very  day  that  son's  earliest  election- 
procession  starts  from  the  doorway  of  the  tranquil  manor 
house.^  Already  the  budding  genius  has  descried  the  dim 
future  of  his  country,  which  he  has  proclaimed  must  be 
governed  for  and  through  the  nation  ;  of  which,  too,  he  has 
already  sung  in  halting  verse : — 

"...  ceased  the  voice 
Of  Great  Britannia  ;  vanished  as  it  ceased 
Her  glance  imperial." 

What  matter  now  the  debts,  the  duns,  the  embarrassments 
for  which  he  blushes  P^  What  matter  the  heartless  allure- 
ments of  siren  fashion  .-•  His  course  is  clear  before  him.  He 
must  win.     He  "has  begun  several  times  many  things,  and 

^  This  is  no  imaginary  picture,  Cf.  Isaac  Disraeli's  letters  in  the 
British  Museum,  Add.  MS.  34,571,  ff.  94,  96.  Bradenham  Manor,  now  the 
residence  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Graves,  had  been  under  Queen  Anne  the  seat 
of  the  Earl  of  Strafford  through  his  marriage  with  a  City  heiress. 

2  In  a  future  chapter  I  shall  revert  to  this  episode,  which  Disraeli  ever 
deplored.  His  valet,  in  bachelor  days,  at  35,  Duke  Street,  St.  James — 
one  Whittlestone,  like  Disraeli's  servant  in  the  East,  Byron's  Tita,  pro- 
vided for  as  attendant  in  a  government  ofificeiby  his  master — used  to  retail 
many  scraps  of  such  gossip.  The  young  Disraeli's  novels,  he  averred, 
were  written  in  bed.     Heroes  truly  should  dispense  with  valets. 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  25 

has  often  succeeded  at  last."  As  for  the  taunt  of"  adventurer," 
what  are  all  original  spirits  that  "  burst  their  birth's  invidious 
bar  "  but  adventurers  ?  Such  were  Chatham/  and  Burke,  and 
Canning,  and  Peel  himself.  But  when  the  "  adventurer "  is 
one  by  temperament  as  well  as  occasion,  how  miraculous 
becomes  his  progress  !    "  Adventures  are  to  the  adventurous." 

"  The  man  who  with  undaunted  toils 
Sails  unknown  seas  to  unknown  soils, 
With  various  wonders  feasts  his  sight  : 
What  stranger  wonders  does  he  write  !  " 

Many  of  us  remember  Disraeli  in  his  age  as  he  sauntered 
dreamily  and  slowly  with  the  late  Lord  Rowton,  and  none 
who  ever  heard  one  of  his  last  orations  in  the  House  of  Lords 
can  forget  how,  even  when  he  was  in  pain,  he  sprang  from 
his  seat  with  the  quick  step  of  youth.  The  physical  charm 
had  disappeared.  Few  wJio  gazed  on  that  drawn  countenance 
could  have  discerned  in  it  the  poetry  and  enthusiasm  of  his 
prime  ;  only  the  unworn  eyes  preserved  their  piercing  fires, 
and  the  sunken  jaw  was  still  masterful.  A  long  discipline  of 
iron  self-control,  much  disillusion,  growing  disappointments 
with  crowning  triumphs,  and  latterly  a  great  desolation,  had 
subdued  the  fiercer  force  and  the  elastic  buoyancy  of  his  hey- 
day. Yet  the  intellectual  charm,  and  the  spell  of  mind  and 
spirit  had  deepened  their  outward  traces.  Fastidious  dis- 
cernment, dispassionate  will,  penetrating  insight,  courage,^ 
patience,  a  certain  winning  gentleness  underneath  the  scorn 
of  shams,  stamp  every  lineament.  Below  habitual  i?isoticiance, 
intensity,  bigness  of  soul  and  purpose  are  prominent.  The 
arch  of  the  noble  brow  retains  its  height  and  curve.  Sur- 
rounded though  he  be  by  friends  and  flatterers,  he  looks  lonelier 
than  of  old.  "  I  do  not  feel  solitude,"  he  said,  "  it  gives  one 
repose."  Interested  in  every  movement,  and  even  in  every  trifle 
that  engages  thought,  his  gaze  appears  more  turned  within. 

'  In  The  Press  (1853-59) — which  vies  with  Swift  in  the  Examiner 
and  Bolingbroke  in  the  Cra/isfnan,  and  to  which  Lord  Derby  and  Shirley 
Brooks  also  contributed  — Disraeli  finely  characterises  Chatham  as  "  a 
forest  oak  in  a  suburban  garden." 

2  Of  this  virtue,  singled  out  with  domestic  purity  by  Gladstone  for 
praise  in  Disraeli,  the  late  Lady  J.  Manners  wrote, "  He  feared  nobody 
but  God."     In  my  eighth  chapter  I  shall  quote  Jowett's  verdict. 


26  DISRAELI 

Wc  know  from  Lady  John  Manners,^  and  from  other 
sources,  how  he  loved  flowers,  and  forestry,  and  study  during 
the  dinner-hour,  more  than  all  the  social  glitter  ;  how  he 
communed  with  the  unseen  ;  how  far-reaching  were  his 
sympathies  ;  what  interest  and  curiosity  he  displayed  in 
every  form  of  career  and  purpose  ;  how  often  to  all  the 
splendour  which  he  had  conquered  he  preferred  converse  with 
the  weak,  the  lowly,  the  suffering  ;  how  his  wise  counsel  and 
inexhaustible  resource  were  sought  and  coveted  by  cottagers, 
by  the  toilers  whose  cause  he  made  his  own,  by  princes  ; 
how  delicately  considerate  he  was  in  his  appointments,  and 
for  all  in  contact  with  him,  how  he  would  sacrifice  a  keen 
personal  wish  rather  than  disturb  a  pleasure  or  abridge  a 
holiday  ;  and  yet  how  his  playfulness  of  fancy  mixed  in  pithy 
ironies  with  his  very  considerateness.  A  familiar  instance — 
that  of  the  attached  servant  who  was  to  enjoy  "  the  pleasures 
of  memory  " — occurred  as  he  lay  dying  from  the  illness  long 
and  bravely  concealed  even  from  his  intimates.  He  was  truly 
unselfish,  and  he  was  never  known  to  blame  a  subordinate. 
If  things  went  wrong,  he  took  the  whole  burden  on  his  own 
shoulders.-  He  exerted  infinite  pains  to  understand  the  con- 
ditions of  and  the  organisations  affecting  labour.^  The  Buck- 
inghamshire peasants  still  cherish  his  memory  ;  and  it  may 
be  said  with  truth  that  the  deepest  affections  of  this  extra- 
ordinary man,  whom  vapid  worldlings  sneered  at  as  a  callous 
cynic,  were  reserved  for  his  country,  his  county,  his  home,  and 
his  friends,  for  effort  and  for  distress.  Many  a  young  aspir- 
ant to  fame,  moreover,  in  literature  or  public  life,  has  owed 
much  to  his  generous  encouragement.  He  liked  to  dwell  on 
the  vicissitudes  of  things,^  and  his  own  motto,  "  Forti  nihil 
difficile,"  represents  his  conviction.  In  private,  when  he  was 
not  entertaining,  his  habits  were  of  the  simplest.  In  two 
things  only  he  was  profuse  ;  books  and  hght.     He  loved  to 

1  "The  Later  Years  of  Lord  Beaconsfield,"  by  Janetta,  Lady  J. 
Manners,  Blackwood,  1881. 

2  In  1852  he  sought  and  obtained  a  long  interview  with  Feargus 
O'Connor,  whose  correspondence  in  the  Star  he  had  utilised  seven 
years  before  in  Sybil. 

3  "  Thus,  amid  all  the  strange  vicissitudes  of  life,  we  are  ever,  as  it 
were,  moving  in  a  circle." 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  27 

see  every  room  of  Hughenden  illuminated  with  candles.  He 
was  utterly  careless  of  money.  It  is  related,  that  when  he 
accepted  the  Chancellorship  of  the  Exchequer,  he  sent  for  the 
celebrated  Mr.  Padwick,  and  asked  for  a  necessary  advance. 
"  On  what  security .? "  inquired  the  sporting  speculator. 
"  That  of  my  name  and  my  career,"  was  the  answer.  And 
the  money  was  at  once  forthcoming,  and  punctually  repaid. 
As  is  well  known,  he  would  often  make  his  greatest  efforts 
half  dinnerless ;  and  his  delight  was,  after  the  strain  and  the 
plaudits  had  ceased,  to  betake  himself  in  the  dim  hours  of 
dawn  to  the  supper  which  his  devoted  wife,  who  spared  him 
every  detail  of  management,  had  prepared,  and  there  to 
recount  to  her  the  excitements  of  the  debate.  The  pair 
would  certainly  have  endorsed  those  verses  of  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  Montagu,  of  which  Byron  was  so  fond — 

"  But  when  the  long  hours  of  public  are  past, 
And  we  meet  with  champagne  and  a  chicken  at  last, 
May  every  fond  pleasure  that  moment  endear, 
Be  banished  afar  both  discretion  and  fear  ! 
Forgetting  or  scorning  the  airs  of  the  crowd, 
He  may  cease  to  be  formal,  and  I  to  be  proud, 
Till  lost  in  the  joy,  we  confess  that  we  live. 
And  he  may  be  rude,  and  yet  I  may  forgive." 

His  public  and  touching  tribute  to  Mrs.  Disraeli  deserves 
repetition  here  ;  nor  will  the  reader  forget,  among  many 
hackneyed  stories,  that  stern  rebuke  to  the  triflers  overheard 
discussing  the  reasons  for  his  marriage — "  Because  of  a  feel- 
ing to  which  such  as  you  are  strangers — gratitude." 

It  was  at  Edinburgh,  in  1867,  when  his  old  ally,  Baillie 
Cochrane  (Lord  Lamington),  toasted  Mrs.  Disraeli  as  her 
illustrious  husband's  helper  and  his  own  dear  friend  for  many 
years  before  Disraeli  met  her.^  Disraeli  opened  with  the 
characteristic  remark  that  their  mutual  intimate  "  certainly 
had  every  opportunity  of  studying  the  subject  to  which  he 
has  drawn  attention."  And  he  went  on  to  sayr"I  do  owe  to 
that  lady  all  I  think  that  I  have  ever  accomplished,  because  she 
has  supported  me  with  her  counsel,  and  consoled  me  by  the 
sweetness  of  her  mind  and  disposition."  Six  years  after  his 
In  1832. 


28  DISRAELI 

marriage,  he  had  dedicated  the  three  volumes  of  his  Sybil, 
"To  one  whose  noble  spirit  and  gentle  nature  ever  prompt 
her  to  sympathise  with  the  suffering  ;  to  one  whose  sweet 
voice  has  often  encouraged,  and  whose  taste  and  judgment 
have  ever  guided  their  pages  ;  the  most  severe  of  critics,  but 
— a  perfect  wife." 

Several  of  his  nice  things  were  said  in  Scotland,  and  one 
of  the  nicest  was  his  compliment  when  he  was  installed 
Rector  of  Glasgow  University.  He  described  his  visit  to 
Abbotsford,  whither  he  had  repaired  in  his  extreme  youth 
with  an  enthusiastic  letter  from  John  Murray  the  First,  his 
father's  old  friend,  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  that  father's  old 
acquaintance.  "  He  showed  me,"  he  said  of  the  laird,  "  his 
demesne,  and  he  treated  me,  not  as  if  I  was  an  obscure  youth, 
but  as  if  I  were  already  Lord  Rector  of  Glasgow  University."  ^ 

Disraeli's  marriage  was  the  happiest  turning-point  in  his 
career  ;  and  that  which  had  begun  partly  in  interest,  soon 
developed  into  the  warmest,  the  most  entire  and  the  most 
mutual  affection.  Mrs.  Disraeli,  at  a  great  country  house, 
always  used  to  commence   conversation  by  the  query,  "  Do 

you    like    my   Dizzy?     Because,  if  you   don't "/   From 

another,  on  a  visit  most  advantageous  to  him,  Disraeli 
departed,  despite  pressing  remonstrance,  on  the  plea  that  the 
"air"  disagreed  with  Mrs.  Disraeli — because  she  had  com- 
plained of  their  host's  rudeness.  It  will  one  day  be  found 
that  to  this  gifted  and  selfless  woman,  English  history  owed 
much  at  several  serious  conjunctures.  I  cannot  resist  relating 
a  good  story  in  another  vein.  Shortly  after  Disraeli's  marriage, 
a  guest  at  Grosvenor  Gate,  pointing  to  a  portrait  of  the  late 
Mr.  Wyndham  Lewis,  Mrs.  Disraeli's  first  husband  and  with 
Disraeli  member  for  Maidstone,  asked  him  whom  it  repre- 
sented. "Our  former  colleague,"  was  the  rejoinder.*  At  a 
much  later  date  Mr.  Frith  was  painting  a  group  in  which 
Disraeli  figured.  As  her  husband  was  going,  Mrs.  Disraeli 
whispered  to  the  artist,  "  Remember  one  thing,  if  you  don't 
mind,  his  pallor  is  his  beauty."  She  was  afraid  that  his 
complexion  would  be  coloured.     To  the  last  she  would  say, 

'  His  Edinburgh  speech  of  1867  and  his  Glasgow  address  of  1873 — 
on  "  Representation  "  and  "  Equality  "  respectively  rank  among  his  best. 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  29 

as  she  did  during  his  interrupted  speech  at  Aylesbury  in 
1847  : — "  He  mind  them  !  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He's  a  match 
for  them  all."  Sir  Horace  Rumbold  has  just  told  us  how,  at 
the  scene  of  Disraeli's  investiture  as  Earl,  a  sob  was  heard 
from  the  crowd.  It  was  the  grief  of  an  old  and  faithful  servant 
sighing,  "Ah  !  If  only  she  had  lived  to  see  him  now  !  " 

Like  childless  men  in  general,  he  was  devoted  to  children. 
More  than  one  still  living  remembers  his  happy  words  of 
playful  intimacy.  To  women  from  the  days  of  his  pet 
Sheridans  to  those  of  the  present  Lady  Currie,  he  appealed 
with  magnetism  throughout  his  career,  and  there  are  few 
more  romantic  episodes  than  his  meetings,  after  hesitation, 
with  the  elderly  Mrs.  Bridges  Williams  at  the  fountain  in  the 
Exhibition  of  1862,  the  existing  correspondence  which  ensued, 
and  the  thumping  legacy  which  crowned  it.  One  who  has 
read  that  correspondence  has  assured  me  that  its  gentle 
chivalry  is  most  striking.  In  the  midst  of  engrossing  occu- 
pation he  never  ceased  to  cheer  the  old  lady  with  gossip  of 
his  doings,  and  even  to  argue  with  her,  as  on  an  affair  of  state, 
regarding  the  advisability  of  Struve's  seltzer  water  as  a  remedy. 

Of  Queen  Victoria's  affection  for  him  I  will  only  say  that 
it  was  because  he  treated  her  as  a  woman.  She  grew  to  lean 
on  his  wisdom  and  his  judgment.  On  more  than  one  occa- 
sion he  acted  as  mediator  in  her  family.  He  was  sincerely 
attached  to  her.  His  witticism,  when  asked  for  a  reason  of 
her  favour,  will  bear  repetition  :  "  I  never  argue,  I  never  con- 
tradict, but  I  sometimes  forget." 

His  influence  over  the  late  Queen  was  more  remarkable 
even  than  has  hitherto  been  disclosed.  And  in  this  regard  I 
am  able  to  state  that,  while  out  of  office,  he  negotiated  with 
extreme  tact,  under  delicate  circumstances,  the  peerage  con- 
ferred on  a  most  amiable  prince,  now  no  more  ;  and  further, 
that  at  each  stage  of  all  its  bearings  Queen  Victoria  consulted 
and  deferred  to  his  counsel,  kindness,  and  resource.  I  may 
add  that  he  also  devised  a  means  of  providing  the  same 
lamented  prince  with  an  absorbing  occupation. 

He  was  a  firm  friend  ;  loyalty  he  always  extolled  as  a 
sovereign  virtue.  Not  many  have  the  faculty  for  friendship 
in   old  age  as    Lord    Beaconsfield   had  it.      His  passion  for 


30  DIST^AELT 

mastery,  his  addiction  to  mystery  were  rivalled  by  his  immense 
faithfulness.  If  he  was  always  "the  man  of  destiny,"  he  was 
also  ever  "  faithful  unto  death."  And  his  real  friendships  were 
warm  as  well  as  constant.  While  he  was  at  Glasgow  to  be 
inaugurated  Lord  Rector  of  its  University,  he  heard  good 
tidings  of  an  old  associate.  "  Mrs.  Disraeli  and  I,"  he  wrote, 
"were  over-joyed,  and  we  danced  a  Highland  fling  in  our 
nightgowns."  The  picture  raises  a  smile,^  but  it  also  strikes 
an  unexpected  chord. 

Of  music  and  of  art  in  general  he  was  a  devotee,  as  many 
passages  in  his  novels  attest.  He  had  his  own  theories  of 
their  influence  on  composition  and  on  literature.  Murillo 
was  his  favourite  painter,  Mozart  his  favourite  composer. 
He  ever  deplored  the  insensibility  of  the  Government  to  the 
duty  of  elevating  taste  for  the  beautiful.  When  the  Blacas 
collection  of  gems  was  in  the  market  at  the  price  of  ;^70,ooo, 
the  Administration  of  the  day  at  first  refused  to  entertain  the 
purchase,  but  Disraeli  persuaded  them  by  offering  to  find  the 
money  himself,  if  they  persisted.  In  this  case,  as  in  so  many 
others  (notably  that  of  the  Suez  Canal  shares),  imagination 
forwarded  the  public  interest  ;  for  this  collection  is  now  worth 
some  threefold  of  what  was  expended.  When  a  great  work  by 
Raphael  was  offered  to  the  Government,  and  Disraeli's  col- 
leagues were  in  doubt,  Disraeli  sent  for  the  leading  dealer,  in 
whose  hands  the  commission  had  been  placed,  inspected  the 
picture  himself,  discoursed  charmingly  and  critically  of  its 
merits,  with  the  result  that  it  is  now  in  the  National  Gallery. 
Since  even  trifles  about  the  eminent  possess  interest,  I  may 
add  the  following  story  of  his  old  age.  He  was  showing 
a  distinguished  visitor  (still  living)  his  family  portraits  at 
Hughenden.  He  paused  before  a  pastel  of  a  lovely  child 
wafted  by  seraphs  through  the  skies.  "  That,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  is  a  pet  picture  ;  observe  how  exquisitely  the  draperies  of 
the  angels  are  arranged.  The  baby's  me  !  "  His  fondness  for 
beautiful  form  extended  to  his  own  handwriting. 

^  So  also  does  another.  Lady  Beaconsfield,  waiting  up,  as  was  her 
wont  even  in  extreme  age,  for  her  husband's  return  after  a  critical  effort, 
entered  the  library  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning  (and  in  niglig^e), 
and  impetuously  embraced  what  turned  out  to  be  Lord  Cairns  writing  an 
im  ortant  minute  before  Disraeli's  arrival. 


DISRAELT'S   PERSONALITY  31 

In  matters  of  courtesy  he  was  old-fashioned  and  punctilious. 
To  the  last  he  resented  that  grotesque  disfigurement  which 
was  beginning  to  make  manners  ugly  before  he  died/  Even 
at  an  earlier  date,  "Manners  are  easy,"  said  "  Coningsby," 
"  and  life  is  hard."  "  And  I  wish  to  see  things  exactly  the 
reverse,"  said  "  Lord  Henry,"  "  the  modes  of  subsistence  less 
difficult,  the  conduct  of  life  more  ceremonious." 

In  his  fiction  it  was  often  objected  that  he  over-depicted 
great  splendour  and  supreme  beauty  ;  that  it  was  thronged 
with  "daughters"  and  mansions  "of  the  gods."  But,  if  he 
erred  in  these  respects,  it  was  from  familiarity  and  not  from 
ostentation,  as  Lady  John  Manners  has  pointed  out  at 
some  length.  "  It  must  be  recollected,"  she  wrote,  thinking  of 
Lothair,  "  that  many  of  those  who  most  appreciated  him,  and 
whose  friendship  he  warmly  reciprocated,  are  surrounded  in 
daily  life  by  a  certain  amount  of  state  which  employs  their 
dependants."  So,  too,  with  regard  to  the  peaceful  and 
prosperous  marriages  of  those  homes  of  forty  years  ago  on 
which  he  delighted  to  dwell.  He  loved  the  gentle  Bucking- 
hamshire landscape,  with  its  treasures  of  association  in  every 
cranny,  more  than  all  the  remembered  luxuriance  of  the  South 
and  glare  of  the  East.  And  it  should  also  be  remembered  that 
his  works  abound  in  sympathetic  descriptions  of  all  kinds  and 
conditions  of  men,  including  the  strangest  and  humblest. 
They  were  taken  from  personal  observation,  and  he  himself 
would  penetrate  the  queerest  haunts  to  gain  the  most  curious 
insight.  The  common  and  the  uncommon  people  fascinated 
him,  for  in  them  he  found  ideas  ;  the  middling  charmed  him 
less.  He  delighted  to  invest  the  seemingly  commonplace  with 
significance,  and  also  to  strip  the  pretentiously  important  of  its 
wonder.  Not  even  Dickens,  as  I  shall  hint  hereafter,  knew  or 
loved  his  London  better.  I  shall  also,  in  the  proper  place, 
touch  on  the  exotic  element  in  his  style  and  accent.  Mr. 
John  Morley  has  aptly  compared  it  to  Goethe's  dictum  about 
St.  Peter's,  that,  though  it  is  baroque,  it  is  always  the  expression 
of  something  great  and  not  merely  grandiose.  His  big  words 
are  never  for  little  things.  Undoubtedly  some  of  his  earliest 
works  are  deficient  in  taste  ;  and  there  is  a  certain  fierce 
hardness  in  their  abrupt  violence.     Mrs.  Austin  advised  him 


32  DISRAET.l 

in  omissions  from  the  original  manuscript  of  Vivian  Grey;  it 
was  to  women  that  he  owed  his  training  in  these  directions. 
His  knowledge  was  vast  and  profound,  and  he  exercised  the 
habit  of  pursuing  long  trains  of  thought  in  reflection.  He 
seldom  worked  at  night,  preferring  that  season  for  brooding 
over  his  ideas.  But  at  all  times,  contrary  to  the  superficial 
opinion,  he  worked  long  and  hard,  sometimes  over  ten  hours 
a  day.  His  gift  of  divination  never  dimmed  his  passion  for 
study,  until  old  age  and  ill-health  warned  him  that  it  must 
pause.  He  never  ceased  to  deplore  the  want  of  "  that  bound- 
less leisure  which  we  literary  men  need."  To  the  last,  as  Lord 
Iddesleigh  has  pointed  out,  he  studied  the  Bible  in  the  earliest 
hours.  In  church  attendance  he  was  what  Mr.  Gladstone  used 
to  call  a  "  oncer."     He  was  a  regular  communicant. 

By  success  he  was  never  inflated,  by  reversals  never  de- 
pressed, although  by  nature  elastic.^  It  was  not  until  1874 
that  his  power  became  wholly  unfettered,  and  then  foreign 
crisis  claimed  the  attention  that  he  longed  to  bestow  on 
social  improvements  and  Colonial  Confederation.  His  three 
previous  spans  of  office  had  been  equally  brief  For  some 
twenty  years  he  headed,  at  intervals,  a  despairing  Opposi- 
tion, whose  mistrustful  murmurs  had  to  be  stilled,  whose 
doubts  had  to  be  dispelled,  and  the  immense  difficulties  of 
whose  management  he  has  graphically  portrayed  in  a  notable 
passage  from  his  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck.  To  the 
printed  diatribes  which  assailed  him  he  was  indifferent. 
In  parliamentary  generalship,  demanding  an  infinite  insight 
and  management,  an  instant  recognition  of  movements  in  the 
mass,  and  "  creation  of  opportunity,"  he  was  unsurpassed  even 
by  Peel,  who  played  on  Parliament  "  as  on  an  old  fiddle."  To 
his  urgent  control  even  so  early  as  1854,  and  when  out  of  office, 
the  correspondence  with  Spencer  Walpole  affords  a  striking 
insight.  "  My  dear  Walpole,"  he  writes  on  November  29  of 
that  year,  "  remember  to  write  to  the  Queen  if  anything  of 
interest  happens  to-night.  Tell  somebody,  Harry  Lennox  or 
another,  to  send  me  a  bulletin  by  this  messenger  of  what  is 
taking  place,  but  not  later  than  ten  o'clock,  as  I  shall  retire 

1  When  Lord  Derby  came  in  in  1852,  "At  last  we  have  got  a  status^'' 
he  said  ;  "  I  feel  like  a  young  girl  going  to  her  first  ball." 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  33 

early,    that  being  my  only  chance.      Be    positive    that    the 
financial  statement  will  be  made  on  Friday."  ^ 

What  he  really  valued  in  power  was  its  faculty  of  influence. 
Otherwise  it  was  bitter-sweet.  He  once  told  a  high  aspirant 
for  high  office,  that  as  for  its  pleasjires,  they  lay  chiefly  in  con- 
trasting the  knowledge  it  afforded  of  what  was  really  being 
done  with  the  ridiculous  chatter  about  affairs  in  the  circles  that 
one  frequented. 

His  wit,  his  brightness  of  humour,  and  lightness  of  touch, 
long  prevented  many  of  his  contemporaries  from  taking  him 
seriously.  Literary  statesmen  are  often  belittled  by  their 
generation  ;  imaginative  statesmen,  always.  They  have 
usually  to  await  a  career  after  death.  The  stereotyped 
character  imposed  on  him  till  his  pluck  and  power  appealed 
to  the  nation  at  large  was  largely  due  to  the  old  Whigs 
("  oligarchy  is  ever  hostile  to  genius  "  ^),  who  for  years  refused 
to  regard  him  with  anything  but  amusement,  yet  whose 
drawing-rooms  had  been  the  readiest  to  applaud  those 
sparkling  sallies  of  1845  and  1846  that  demolished  the  pre- 
mier whom  they  too  wished  to  destroy  ;  that  coterie  so  long 
trained  to  make  popular  causes  preserve  their  exclusive  power, 
and  of  whom  he  wrote  in  1833,  "A  Tory,  a  Radical,  I  under- 
stand ;  a  Whig,  a  democratic  aristocrat,  I  cannot  comprehend." 
It  was  not  due  to  the  Peelites,  who  frankly  hated  him  as  an 
open  foe.  Even  the  Liberals  (many  of  whom  he  counted  as 
personal  friends),  when  he  warned  them  of  the  underground 
rumblings,  ominous  of  social  earthquake  in  Ireland,  shrugged 
their  shoulders  ;  and  when  he  was  reported,  glass  in  eye,  to 
have  answered  a  duchess  inquisitive  about  the  exact  date  of 
the  dissolution  with  "You  darling,"  they  split  their  sides,  and 
guffawed,  "  There  he  is  again ! "  They  agreed  with  his  old 
family  acquaintance,  Bernal  Osborne  (if  it  was  he),  to  whom 
the  heartlessness  was  attributed  of  saying,  when  Lord  Beacons- 
field  was  stricken  with  his  lingering  illness,  "  Overdoing  it, 
as  usual." 

And   yet   how  interesting  it  is  to  find   Disraeli    in   the 

'  British  Museum  Add.  MS.  34,645,  f-  19. 

2  In  The  Press  Disraeli  illustrates  this  historical  fact  with  infinite  know- 
ledge in  a  remarkable  passage. 
D 


34  DISRAELT 

Grant-Duff  diaries  discoursing  eagerly  in  the  faint  dawn  on 
Westminster  Bridge  of  Lord  John  Russell.  Perhaps  Disraeli's 
greatest  admirer  among  opponents  was  Cobden,  and  that 
admiration  was  warmly  returned.  Both  of  them  had  one 
great  virtue  in  common,  and  a  rare  one,  especially  in  public 
life — gratitude  ;  and  both  could  afford  to  be  generous.  Read 
the  letter  now  first  disclosed  by  Mr.  John  Morley,  whose 
literary  appreciation  of  Disraeli  is  manifest,  in  which  Disraeli 
sought  to  win  Gladstone  with  "  deign  to  be  magnanimous." 

Disraeli's  own  magnanimity — frankly  owned  by  Mr.  Glad- 
stone— was  conspicuous  though  it  is  unfamiliar.  During  the 
decade  of  the  'fifties,  on  at  least  four  occasions  ^  he  offered  to 
sacrifice  his  personal  position  to  Graham,  Palmerston,  and 
Gladstone  successively  for  the  interests  of  his  country  and 
his  party.  In  1868  and  1869  he  indignantly  defended  the  last 
against  the  carping  "  tail "  of  his  supporters,  rebuking  alike  the 
"  frothy  spouters  of  sedition,"  and  those  who  preferred  remem- 
brance of  "  accidental  errors  "  to  gratitude  for  "  splendid  gifts 
and  signal  services."  His  unstinted  praise  of  worthy  foes,  his 
conduct  even  towards  the  ostracised  Dr.  Kenealy,  are  constant 
proofs  of  a  leading  trait.  He  always  forebore  to  strike  an  oppo- ' 
nent  to  please  the  whim  or  the  passion  of  the  j)opular  breeze. 

A  propos  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  who  himself  paid  a  tribute  to 
the  absence  of  rancour  in  his  rival,  I  may  be  permitted  to 
recall  an  anecdote  told  me  by  the  late  Sir  John  Millais. 
When  Disraeli  stood  (though  then  suffering,  he  refused  to 
sit)  for  his  last  portrait,  his  "  dear  Apelles  "  noticed  his  gaze 
riveted  on  an  engraving  of  the  artist's  fine  portrait  of  the 
great  premier.  "  Would  you  care  to  have  it .-' "  he  inquired. 
"  I  was  rather  shy  of  offering  it  to  you."  "  I  should  be 
delighted  to  have  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  Don't  imagine  that 
I  have  ever  disliked  Mr.  Gladstone  ;  on  the  contrary,  my  only 
difficulty  with  him  has  been  that  I  could  never  understand  him!' 
And  Carlyle  himself  thawed  when  Disraeli,  whom  he  had  so 
long  hysterically  abused,  but  many  of  whose  ideas,  as  I  shall 
prove,  he  shared,  offered  him  public  recognition  in  a  letter 
which  gave  as  a  reason  for  uninheritable  honours,  "  I  have 
remembered  that  you  too,  like  myself,  are  childless."     But 

'  In  1850,  1852,  1855,  and  1859. 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  35 

Carlyle,  who  had  aspersed  him,  never  denied  that  he  looked 
facts  in  the  face  without  mistaking  phantoms  for  them.  Even 
from  the  first  he  owned  length  of  view.  In  his  old  age  a  certain 
far-awayness  of  expression  was  very  noticeable. 

I  have  mentioned  Mr.  Gladstone.  It  was  well  for  England 
that  two  great  attitudes  towards  great  questions  should  have 
been  thrown  into  sharp  relief  for  nearly  a  score  of  years  by 
the  duel  between  two  great  personalities  ;  and  it  was  also  well 
for  Disraeli  that  "  England  does  not  love  coalitions."  We 
knt)w  from  Mr.  Gladstone's  own  lips  that  much  in  his  rival 
had  won  his  respect,  while  from  Mr.  Morley  we  glean  that 
Mr.  Gladstone  even  struggled  with  a  sort  of  subacid  liking  for 
one  whom  he  too  could  "never  comprehend."  ^  The  letters  of 
both  after  Lady  Beaconsfield's  death  are  refreshing  instances 
of  how,  sworn  enemies  of  the  arena  may  grasp  hands  under 
the  softening  solemnity  of  bereavement,  and  for  a  moment 
forget  the  hard  words  which,  under  irritation,  they  certainly 
used  of  each  other. 

Disraeli  was  older  than  Gladstone,  and  had  been  early 
acquainted  with  him.  In  the  'thirties  he  sat  next  to  "young 
Gladstone"  at  the  Academy  dinner,  and  regretted  that  he 
had  been  relegated  from  "  the  wits,"  with  whom  he  had  been 
ranged  in  the  year  previous,  to  "the  politicians."  In  the 
'forties  Disraeli  made  one  of  his  few  mistakes  in  prognostic, 
when  he  wrote  to  his  sister,  "  I  doubt  if  he  has  an  '  avenir ' ; " 
but  the  significance  of  Gladstone's  resignation  at  this  juncture 
on  "  Maynooth,"  and  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  Peelites 
must  be  borne  in  mind.  Disraeli  could  scarcely  then  divine 
the  surprises  of  oscillation  in  store. 

;^xcept  in  vigour  of  undaunted  character,  and  in  a  sort  of 
inward  loneliness,  their  qualities  were  opposed.  The  intensity 
of  the  one  was  austere,  imperious,  imposing,  and  didactic ;  of 
the   other,   buoyant,   lively,  and    poignant.      Frequently  the 

'  Like  most  of  the  Peelites,  Air.  Gladstone  was  not  proof  against  a 
certain  air  of  over-righteous  condescension  and  patronage.  Even  in  the 
'sixties  he  notes  in  his  diary  that,  meeting  Disraeli  at  a  time  of  trial,  he 
extended  his  hand,  which  was  "  kindly  accepted."  But  he  honestly 
admired  his  gifts,  and  in  1859  generously  disdained  to  "  bargain  "  him 
"  out  of  the  saddle." 


36  DISRAELI 

flippancy  of  certain  leaders  provoked  his  gravity  ;  more  fre- 
quently the  solemnity  of  others  upset  his  own.  Gladstone 
moved  by  violent  reaction  and  hasty  rebound  ;  Disraeli,  by  a 
spring  of  step,  it  is  true,  but  of  a  step  measured,  wary,  and 
equal.  Disraeli  stamped  himself  on  his  age  ;  it  was  often  the 
"  Time-Spirit "  that  impressed  itself  on  Mr.  Gladstone,  a  list  of 
whose  changeful  "convictions"  ^  from  1836  to  1896  might  fill 
a  small  volume.  Again,  Disraeli's  utterance  left  a  stronger 
sense  of  reserve  power,  of  something  serious  behind  the  veil. 
Mr.  Gladstone's  phases,  always  sincere,  in  the  main  struck  more 
the  conscience  of  certain  sections  ;  Disraeli's  ideas,  the  national 
feelings,  Mr.  Gladstone's  subtleties  were  those  of  a  theologian ; 
they  did  not  quicken  the  lay  mind.  Disraeli's  were  the  subtle- 
ties of  an  artist  ;  they  put  things  in  new  perspectives.  It 
might  be  said  that  by  nature  and  unconscious  bent,  the  one 
hid  simplicity  under  the  form  of  subtlety,  while  with  the 
other  the  process  was  the  converse.  In  oratory,  Mr,  Glad- 
stone convinced  by  height  and  redundance  of  enthusiasm,  by 
depth  of  feeling  and  weight  or  wealth  of  words  and  gestures  ; 
Disraeli,  more  by  grasp,  incisiveness,  and  point ;  his  imagina- 
tion played  all  round  many  sides  of  his  subject.  Gladstone's 
eloquence  resembled  the  storminess  and  the  mist  of  the  North 
Sea  ;  Disraeli's,  the  strange  lights  and  shadows,  the  subtle  and 
tideless  lustre  of  the  Mediterranean.  As  Mr.  Gladstone  warmed 
to  his  theme,  he  increased  in  eloquence  ;  his  perorations  are 
always  great.  It  was  in  peroration  that  Disraeli  sometimes 
failed,  except  in  his  after-dinner  speeches,  which  never  missed 
fire  from  start  to  finish. 

Mr.  Gladstone  was  saturated,  Disraeli  tinctured,  with  the 
classics.  Mr.  Gladstone  was  essentially  the  scholar,  and  he  was 
Homeric,  while  Disraeli  was  Horatian  and  Tacitean.  His  ready 
acquaintance  with  Latin  masterpieces  was  shown  when  he  first 

»  Not  only  convictions,  but  tactics  also.  Mr.  Gladstone  often  blamed 
actions  in  others  which  he  afterwards  adopted  ;  Disraeli  never  did.  I 
subjoin  a  few  instances.  In  1852  he  blamed  Disraeli's  budget-proposal 
for  repealing  half  the  malt  tax  ;  he  himself  afterwards  repealed  the  whole. 
In  1867  he  blamed  Disraeli's  first  introduction  of  the  Reform  Act  by 
resolutions  ;  next  year  he  did  the  same  with  his  Irish  Church  Bill,  In 
1869  he  severely  blamed  Disraeli  for  resigning  without  meeting  Parlia- 
ment ;  in  1874  he  himself  followed  suit. 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  37 

took  the  oaths  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  hit  off  a 
most  happy  quotation  on  the  spur  of  the  moment ;  nor  will  it 
be  forgotten  that  once,  when  he  was  citing  a  classic  in  the 
House,  he  added,  "Which,  for  the  sake  of  the  successful 
capitalists  around  me,  I  will  now  try  to  translate." 
"■"  Again,  despite  Mr.  Gladstone's  immense  versatility,  there 
was  always  something  cloistral  about  him.  He  himself  con- 
fessed that  till  he  was  fifty  he  did  not  **  know  the  world."  I 
venture  to  doubt  if  he  ever  knew  it,  and  it  was  just  this 
academic  simplicity  that  so  often  led  his  huge  brain-power  to 
deal  with  unsubstantial  material. 

Mr.  Gladstone  will  not  live  through  his  books.  He  was 
far  more  a  writer  than  an  author,  though  he  was  always 
distinguished  in  all  his  undertakings.  But  he  was  doctrinaire  ; 
and  he  was  almost  devoid  of  any  real  sense  of  humour.  On 
the  appearance  of  "  Nicholas  Nickleby "  he  owned  its  merit, 
but  singled  out  its  pathos  with  the  criticism  that  he  was 
grieved  by  the  absence  from  it  of  the  religious  sentiment — 
"No  Church!"  In  this  respect  Disraeli  and  Gladstone  were 
brought  into  amusing  contrast  during  the  Bulgarian  atrocity 
campaign.  Mr.  Gladstone  had  characterised  the  Premier's 
attitude  as  "diabolical."  Disraeli,  in  a  speech,  referred  to 
Mr.  Gladstone's  having  called  him  "  a  devil."  Mr.  Gladstone 
denied  the  impeachment,  and  asked  for  verse  and  chapter. 
Disraeli  rejoined  by  writing  that  "the  gentlemen  who  so 
kindly  assist  me  in  the  conduct  of  public  affairs "  had  used 
their  best  endeavours  to  ascertain  the  precise  time  and  place 
when  the  Prince  of  Darkness  had  been  named,  but  hitherto 
without  success. 

A  famous  bookseller,  with  whom  both  statesmen  frequently 
conversed,  used  to  recount  that  Disraeli  once  inquired,  as  was 
his  wont,  what  of  new  interest  was  forthcoming.  He  men- 
tioned one  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  Vatican  pamphlets.  "  No," 
was  the  answer  ;  "  please  not  that.  Mr.  Gladstone  is  a  power- 
ful writer,  but  nothing  that  he  writes  is  literature." 

In  the  House  of  Commons  Disraeli  had  schooled  himself 
from  the  first  to  conceal  the  emotions  of  a  nature  naturally 
quick  and  sensitive.  He  early  lit  on  two  mechanical  devices 
for  this  purpose :  the  one  was  to  stroke  his  knees  regularly 


38  DISRAELI 

with  his  hand,  the  other  to  scan  the  clock.  When  he  was 
much  angered  it  was  only  by  a  change  of  colour  that  his 
agitation  was  ever  betrayed.  It  must  be  confessed  that  he 
loved  to  "draw"  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  those  who  remember 
how,  when  Disraeli  sat  down  and  relapsed  into  impassivity, 
Mr.  Gladstone  jumped  up  with  a  look  of  rage  and  a  voice  of 
thunder,  will  admit  that  both  performances  were  perfect.  But 
the  audience  expected  the  scene  which  became  habitual,  and 
even  supreme  actors  are  influenced  by  the  expectation  of 
their  audience.  Neither  Gladstone  nor  Disraeli  ever  stooped 
to  ill-nature.  Great  men  are  not  petty.  But  the  moral 
indignation  of  the  one,  and  the  intellectual  indignation  of  the 
other,  which  sometimes  exchanged  places,  lent  the  semblance 
of  pique  or  of  quarrel.  Disraeli's  dislike  of  spleen  is  well 
displayed  by  what  he  once  said  of  Abraham  Hay  ward,  the 
caustic  reviewer :  "  If  that  man  were  to  be  run  over  in  the 
streets,  you  would  see  his  venom  swimming  in  the  gutters." 

In  debate,  Disraeli's  characteristics  were  a  quick  readiness 
and  an  inexhaustible  power  of  diverting  discussion  to  new 
channels  and  of  defeating  expectation.  The  occasion  when, 
in  reply  to  Mr.  Whalley  concerning  the  Jesuits,  he  answered 
that  one  of  their  pet  devices  was  to  send  over  Jesuits  in 
disguise  to  decry  the  Jesuits,  will  recur  to  the  memory.  His 
power  of  literary  illustration  needs  no  comment.  Two  brilliant 
instances  are  that  of  the  boots  of  the  Lion  embracing  the 
chambermaid  of  the  Boar  in  connection  with  the  Edinburgh 
and  Quarterly  Reviews,  and  that  charming  one  about  the 
Abyssinian  expedition,  where  he  reminded  us  that  the  standard 
of  St.  George  was  flying  over  the  mountains  of  Rasselas.^  In 
retort  he  was  supreme.  Two  of  the  best  instances  are  to  be 
noted  in  the  rejoinder  to  Peel  about  "candid  friends"  and 
Canning,  and  in  the  pause  he  made  when  in  a  much  later 
speech  he  said,  "  I  have  never  attacked  any  one "  (cries  of 
"Peel")  "unless  I  was  first  assailed."  I  shall  relate  some 
others  hereafter.  His  self-imposed  impassiveness  of  de- 
meanour in  the  House  was  that  of  a  sentinel  on  bivouac  ;  it 
became  exaggerated  by  the  contrast  of  his  illustrious  compeer's 

I  Some  of  the  best  in  his  earliest  speeches  are  derived  from  "  Don 
Quixote." 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  39 

extreme  excitability.  Disraeli  was  very  zealous  for  the 
honour  of  the  House  in  which  he  passed  the  greater  portion 
of  his  life.  On  one  occasion  a  young  and  violent  adversary 
insinuated  that  Disraeli  had  told  a  lie.  Disraeli  calmly  cleared 
himself  to  the  general  satisfaction,  and  his  denouncer  began 
to  feel  uncomfortable  ;  still  more  so  when  he  was  sent  for  to 
the  great  man's  private  room.  What  was  his  surprise  when 
he  was  shaken  warmly  by  the  hand.  "  We  all  make  mistakes," 
said  Disraeli,  "  when  we  are  young.  But  please  to  remember  all 
your  life  that  the  House  of  Commons  is  a  house  of  gentlemen." 
For  sheer  insight  into  the  march  of  ideas  and  reach  of 
vision  there  is  no  comparison  between  the  two.  Even  in  the 
'forties  Disraeli  perceived  that  the  coming  choice  lay  between 
absolute  democracy  and  a  monarchical  democracy.  After- 
wards— in  the  early  'fifties,  while  monarchy  in  England  was 
still  far  from  popular — he  laid  his  plans — as  is  apparent  from 
his  contributions  to  his  organ,  The  Press,  in  1853 — to  popu- 
larise monarchy  and  educate  democracy  before  enfranchising 
it ;  and,  not  till  that  was  accomplished,  to  re-imperialise  Great 
Britain.  "He  has  not,"  he  wrote  in  1853  of  Lord  John 
Russell,  "comprehended  that  for  the  last  twenty  years  the 
choice  is  between  the  maintenance  of  those  institutions  and 
habits  of  thought  which  preserve  monarchy,  and  that  gradual 
change  into  absolute  democracy  to  which  Tocqueville  some- 
where rashly  considered  all  the  tendencies  of  our  age  impel 
the  destinies  of  Europe.  .  .  .  The  Whigs  should  have  been 
conservative  of  the  reformed  constitution,  and  have  developed 
it.  .  .  ."  ^  While  Gladstone  was  refining  a  rather  tortuous 
conscience  into  making  the  forlorn  Peelites  alternate  between 
the  Conservatives  and  the  Whigs,  Disraeli  was  reconstructing 
and  developing  a  national  party.  While  Gladstone  and 
Sidney  Herbert,  in  righteous  indignation  at  Peel's  memory, 
were  enraged  at  the  delinquency  of  not  struggling  for  absolute 
protection  when  the  Derby  Ministry  assumed  office,  Disraeli 
showed  that  the  principle  of  his  struggle  (continued  as 
regarded  the  sugar  repeal)  had  been  land  and  labour.  He 
must  now  benefit  these  by  alleviations,  rather  than,  as  a 
responsible  Minister,  attempt  an  upheaval  of  what  the  nation 
'  Letters  to  the  Whigs,  The  Press,  May  7,  1853. 


40  DISRAELI 

had  finally  endorsed,  and  set  private  opinion  as  to  particular 
measures  at  variance  with  the  possibility  of  government  at 
all.  Had  he  done  so  he  would  have  been  doing  what  Fox 
himself  had  not  attempted  with  regard  to  Catholic  emanci- 
pation, what  Lord  John  Russell  had  not  thought  of  in  1847, 
what  no  responsible  Minister  could  have  compassed,  and 
what,  Lord  John  Russell  added,  the  Whigs  could  not  do  in 
1835.  And  yet,  out  of  sheer  honest  hatred,  he  was  vilified 
by  those  "high  and  stubborn  spirits  who,  with  the  severity 
peculiar  to  those  censors  who  cannot  aspire  to  be  consuls, 
refuse  to  acknowledge  that  there  could  be  any  virtue  of 
necessity,  .  .  .  and  could  not  enlarge  their  comprehension 
of  the  requisites  of  a  statesman  beyond  quotations  from 
'  Hansard.'  There  were  surely  some  juster  thinkers  in  the 
House  of  Commons  who  must  have  trembled  at  the  doctrine 
that  men  in  office  are  rigidly  to  carry  out  the  opinions  they 
proposed  in  opposition."  ^  That,  he  points  out,  is  the 
function  of  opposition,  and  the  duty  of  supporting  opinions 
which  a  nation  has  cancelled  never  arises  unless  those 
opinions  have  sent  you  to  office.  As  he  puts  it,  "  Themis 
is  the  goddess  of  opposition,  but  Nemesis  sits  in  Downing 
Street."  In  the  overthrow  of  Peel  lay  a  very  different  moral, 
and  by  that  overthrow  he  wished  to  lay  bare  the  choice 
between  "  Liberal  opinions  "  and  "  popular  principles,"  between 
Peel's  sudden  adoption  of  the  "physical  enjoyment"  theory 
of  regeneration  and  his  own.  By  that  destruction  he  eventu- 
ally ended  the  Whigs  and  Peelites  alike,  and  set  before  the 
country  the  true  choice  that  awaited  it,  instead  of  the  per- 
plexity of  parties  ^  which,  joined  to  detestation  of  himself, 
caused  the  coalition  of  1853  and  prevented  the  contrast  of 
the  ideas  which  really  divided  the  minds  of  men  from  being 
prominent  in  true  proportions. 

'  Letters  to  the  Whigs,  The  Press,  May  14,  1853. 

*  Disraeli  always  insisted  on  the  indispensability  of  the  party  system. 
As  he  pointed  out  of  Bolingbroke,  so  in  his  own  case,  the  idea  of  a 
"  national "  party  had  to  be  accommodated  to  conservatism.  Gladstone, 
too,  said  of  Peel,  in  1846,  that  "to  abjure  party  was  impossible"  (Morley, 
i.  295  ;  cf.  Disraeli's  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck^  p.  224).  After  repeal 
was  carried,  Peel  gave  great  offence  to  his  followers — and  especially  to  Mr. 
Gladstone — by  singHngout  its  illustrious  and  original  champion  for  praise. 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  41 

As  a  practical  statesman,  Disraeli  thought  more  of  those 
moral  elements  by  which  the  State  can  square  private  duty 
with  public  interest ;  Gladstone,  more  of  those  elements  above 
and  beyond  conduct.  Gladstone  was  perhaps  more  of  an 
apostle,  Disraeli  of  a  seer.  Gladstone  owned  a  noble  heart 
with  lofty  spiritual  standards,  and  an  enormous  quality  of 
moral  resentment ;  but  his  Church  views  coloured  his  life  as 
much  as  his  religious  convictions,  while  his  minute  and  per- 
plexing scruples  too  often  changed  the  forms  of  his  enthusi- 
asms, led  zeal  to  chime  with  prejudice,  and  sometimes  sent 
him  astray  altogether  into  self-deception. 

Gladstone  was  a  strange  compound  of  diverse  elements — 
of  Highlander  and  Lowlander,  of  Scotland,  Liverpool,  Oxford, 
and  Italy.  In  some  respects  he  might  even  be  termed  the 
Dante  of  politics  ;  but  in  others  he  was  occasionally  deemed 
its  Ignatius  Loyala.  Disraeli,  on  the  other  hand,  depended 
on  his  singular  force  of  independence  and  of  native  sight  and 
foresight.  Those  who  admired  the  early  Gladstone  as  Sir 
Galahad  never  wished  him  to  sit  on  the  seat  of  Merlin  ;  nay, 
Gladstone  himself  perpetually  deemed  Disraeli,  Machiavelli, 
or  even  Cagliostro.  In  relation  to  Disraeli,  Gladstone  would 
have  perhaps  addressed  England  with  "  O  foolish  Galatians, 
who  hath  bewitched  you  ?  "  while  Disraeli  might  have  retorted 
by  the  witticism  of  Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marborough,  on  the 
eagerness  of  James  the  Second  to  drag  his  country  to  heaven 
with  him.  It  was  just  Disraeli's  originality  and  length  of 
view  that  caused  him  to  be  maligned  as  well  as  misunder- 
stood, though  by  some  his  conduct  towards  Peel  was  not  un- 
naturally eyed  askance.  And  yet,  in  Mr.  Morley's  "  Life," 
Lord  John  Russell  is  to  be  found  vindicating  his  own  share  in 
that  transaction,^  and  Sir  James  Graham  himself  admitting 
that  Peel  provoked  what  he  suffered.^     In  the  eyes  of  many, 

1  "  As  for  the  Irish  bill  on  which  he  had  turned  Peel  out,  it  was  one  of 
the  worst  of  all  coercion  bills  ;  Peel,  with  117  followers,  evidently  could 
not  have  carried  on  the  Government,  and  what  sense  could  there  have 
been  in  voting  for  a  bad  bill  in  order  to  retain  in  office  an  impossible 
Ministry?" — He  might  have  added  that  the  bill — supported  some  months 
earlier  by  Lord  John  and  Lord  G.  Bentinck — under  protest  as  only 
excusable  through  urgency,  was  delayed  by  Peel  to  carry  the  repeal,  until 
its  necessity  had  vanished. 

2  He  said  (1846)  :  ".  .  .  It  was  no  wonder  they  (the  Protectionists) 


42  DISRAELI 

Gladstone  was  Homer's  "old  man  of  the  sea"  trying  to  hold 
Proteus,  and  yet  none  proved  more  Protean  through  enlarging 
aspirations  than  "the  old  man"  himself.  Perhaps  Gladstone 
regarded  the  world  more  as  the  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  Disraeli 
more  as  "Vanity  Fair."  Gladstone  had  more  sail,^  Disraeli 
more  ballast.  The  one  floated  on  waves  of  agitation,  the  other 
desired  a  strong  government  by  steadying  the  people  and 
attaching  them  to  institutions.  Moreover,  Gladstone  con- 
stantly viewed  the  State  from  the  standpoint  of  his  particular 
Church  opinions.  Disraeli  believed  that  the  principle  of 
the  Revolution  had  never  been  perfected  by  the  due  de- 
velopment of  popular  institutions.  He  agreed  with  Pym 
that  "the  best  form  of  government  is  that  which  doth  dispose 
and  actuate  evei-y  part  and  member  of  a  State  to  the  common 
good." 

Disraeli  owned,  of  course,  his  foibles,  though  he  was  too 
proud  ever  to  be  very  vain.  As  we  shall  find  later  on,  when 
I  come  to  his  faults  of  temperament,  his  grasp  of  ideas  occa- 
sionally pressed  them  too  literally  both  on  life  and  letters. 
He  tended  to  overstrain  his  lights  and  shadows.  His  imagina- 
tion sometimes  ran  riot  in  its  colours,  and  throughout  tended 
to  exaggerate  the  forms  of  events,  though  hardly  ever  their 
significance,  which  he  was  often  the  first  to  divine.  He  is 
said  to  have  cherished  some  superstitions  about  lucky  days 
and  unlucky  colours,  but  for  these  I  cannot  vouch.  I  can, 
however,  for  the  fact  that  he  was  once  seen  by  intimates  to 
wear  a  green  velvet  smoking-coat,  though  one  of  the  few 
occasions  on  which  he  troubled  the  newspapers  was  to  refute 

regarded  themselves  as  betrayed,  and  unfortunately  it  had  been  the  fate 
of  Sir  R.  Peel  to  perform  the  same  operation  twice."  From  the  party  stand- 
point there  was  abundant  justification.  Gladstone  in  old  age  declared 
that  Disraeli's  brilliant  philippics  surpassed  even  their  reputation,  and 
that,  under  their  lash,  Peel  sat  powerless."  Cf.  Morley's  "  Gladstone,"  i. 
296,  iii.  465.  "  Dealt  with  them  with  a  kind  of  righteous  dulness  " — "  The 
Protectionist  secession  due  to  three  men.  Derby  contributed  prestige  ; 
Bentinck  backbone  ;  and  Dizzy  parliamentary  brains."  The  real  fault 
found  with  Disraeli  by  his  enemies  (but  afterwards)  was  that  he  "  did  not 
care  a  straw"  for  Protection.  The  reader  must  judge  after  my  two  next 
chapters. 

^  It  was  a  sail,  however,  that  could  not  bear  being  crossed  by  contrary 
winds.     From  youth  upwards  Gladstone  could  never  brook  opposition. 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  43 

the  slander  of  having,  when  young,  appeared  in  green  trousers.^ 
And  here  I  may  perhaps  be  pardoned  for  inserting  a  slight 
story  about  Mrs.  Disraeli,  which  comes  from  the  same  source 
as  the  last.  Dr.  Guthrie  was  once  staying  at  Grosvenor  Gate, 
and  invited  his  hostess  to  visit  him  at  Glasgow.  "  I  will,"  she 
smiled,  "  if  you  will  promise  to  wear  your  kilt  in  the  streets." 
"  Perhaps  I  will,"  he  replied,  with  hesitation.  "  You  had  better 
be  careful,  Guthrie,"  interposed  Disraeli,  "  for  that  woman,  I 
assure  you,  means  what  she  says." 

In  taste  and  in  phrase  he  was  naturally  extravagant,  but 
his  epigrams  were  never  for  the  sake  of  paradox,  and  were 
always  the  summaries  of  wisdom  and  reflection.  They  were 
light,  not  frivolous  ;  they  were  imaginative  proverbs.  There 
never  was  a  wittier  man,  and  his  wit  lent  itself  to  his  ironic 
humour.  He  loved  effects  that  struck  imagination,  but  ever 
for  a  crucial  purpose.  It  was  said  of  him  by  an  intimate  that 
one  of  his  sentences — and  in  conversation  he  was  sparing — 
left  more  behind  than  a  long  talk  with  others  of  consummate 
talent.  As  for  the  scathing  sarcasm — his  weapon  of  self- 
defence  during  his  earlier  stages — at  times  over-savage  and 
belying  his  normal  cheeriness — sobriety  of  judgment  is  com- 
patible with — 

"  The  stinging  of  a  heart  the  world  hath  stung." 

But,  undoubtedly,  the  too  quick  transitions  of  a  susceptible 
fancy  from — 

"  Grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe," 

often  irritated  and  even  offended  not  only  the  dull,  but  the 
serious.  And  yet  in  life,  as  in  literature,  is  there  more  than 
one  step  in  the  descent  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  ? 

Like  all  celebrated  wits,  he  suffered  both  from  the  ascrip- 
tion of  his  own  dons  mots  to  others,  and  from  those  of  others 
being  fathered  upon  him.     Thus  the  "without  a  redeeming 

'  In  1 83 1  Sir  Henry  Bulvver — teste  Mr.  Frederick  Greenwood — was 
asked  by  his  famous  brother  to  meet  his  marvellous  new  friend  at  dinner. 
The  company  was  all  young,  ambitious,  and  able  ;  yet  all  agreed  that  their 
master  was  "  the  man  in  the  green  trousers."  Perhaps  they  were  not  quite 
so  green  as  Sir  Henry's  recollection  painted  them. 


44  DISRAELI 

vice "  (about  Lord  Hatherley)  was  his,  not  Westbury's, 
while  the  "  dinner  all  cold  except  the  ices,"  was  said  not 
by  him,  but  by  Sir  Uavid  Dundas.  His  pithy  sentences 
were  simply  one  manifestation  of  his  naturally  laconic  turn  of 
mind. 

He  was  occasionally  over-adroit,  especially  in  his  desire  to 
gain  distinguished  recruits  for  his  party  ;  and  he  sometimes, 
perhaps,  magnified  the  machinations  of  secret  conspiracies, 
although  their  hidden  tyranny  was  gauged  by  him  with 
unerring  instinct.  His  predilection  both  in  art  and  nature  was 
for  extremes.  Full  of  atmosphere  himself,  he  owned  the  social 
nerves  which  suffer  overmuch  from  lack  of  it  in  others.  He 
detested  bores,  those  masterpieces  of  nature's  bad  art.  One 
of  them  (if  I  may  say  so  without  disrespect  to  his  kindness 
and  amiability,  since  departed)  has  told  with  artless  humour 
how  at  one  of  the  last  dinner-parties  that  Lord  Beaconsfield 
attended,  he  engaged  him  in  conversation,  but  was  pained  to 
notice  how  ill  and  absent  he  seemed.  Suddenly,  however,  on 
the  arrival  of  a  distinguished  guest,  a  Russian  diplomatist, 
the  great  man  brightened  and  grew  young  again,  as  if  by 
miracle  ! 

After  his  elevation  to  the  peerage,^  when  he  would  often 
revisit  the  "  glimpses  of  the  moon,"  and  watch  new  members 
with  rapt  interest,  on  one  occasion  he  listened  patiently  to  a 
long  speech  of  ideal  dreariness  from  the  lips  of  one  unknown 
to  him.      He  inquired,  as  usual,  who  the  speaker  was,  and 

learned  that  Mr. had  no  other  peculiarity  but  deafness. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  he  sighed,  "  and  yet  he  seems  unaware  of  his 
natural  advantages.     He  cannot  hear  himself  speak." 

Of  Disraeli's  attitude  towards  fashionable  society,  as  well 
as  towards  that  which  really  fascinated  him,  I  shall  say  more 
in  my  eighth  chapter  ;  but  one  incident  of  his  old  age  must 
be  presented  here.  I  can  vouch  for  it,  since  it  was  told  me 
by  an  eye-witness — a  political  opponent. 

It    was    after    "  Peace    with    honour "  ^ — after    he    had 

'  The  title  of''  Beaconsfield,"  long  before  foreshadowed  in  Vivian  Grey, 
was  adopted  in  homage  to  the  abode  of  Burke. 

-  This  phrase  was  used  by  DisraeH  in  a  speech  of  the  'fifties.  Its 
origin,  though  not  its  phrasing,  is  to  be  found  in  Bohngbroke. 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  45 

"descended  from  the  Teutonic  chariot,"  after  the  congress  where 
he  discovered  the  alternative  Russian  map  of  Bulgaria,  con- 
cealed by  diplomacy,  where  he  earned  Bismarck's  undying 
praise  and  admiration.  The  scene  was  a  magnificent  reunion 
in  an  historic  mansion.  All  the  fine  flower  of  society  was 
gathered  in  a  galaxy  of  splendour  and  of  grandeur.  In  one 
of  the  saloons  a  brilliant  crowd  was  awaiting  Lord  Beacons- 
field's  entry.  As  the  big  doors  opened,  a  thrill  went  through 
them.  Haughty  ladies  in  the  feeling  of  the  moment  made 
obeisance  as  if  to  royalty,  while  that  pale  figure  with  the  in- 
scrutable smile  passed  along  their  serried  ranks.  Unmoved 
and  immovable,  he  went  straight  forward,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  future,  scarcely  conscious  of  their  presence,  except  for 
his  recognition  of  their  homage. 

Such  are  some  of  his  leading  features.  They  combine  and 
reconcile  the  seeming  contradictions  of  a  nature  at  once  calm 
and  impetuous,  deep  and  light,  astute  and  far-seeing  in  affairs 
of  importance  ;  in  trifles,  careless.  These  contrasts,  united  by 
genius,  pursue  the  forms  of  his  mind — his  ideas.  He  was,  of 
course,  no  monster  of  consistency,  but  the  ideas  that  animated 
his  actions  and  utterance  sprang  from  a  singularly  consistent 
outlook  and  a  most  definite  personality.  In  every  case  they 
were  the  outcome  on  the  one  hand  of  his  race,  on  the  other 
of  his  nationality.  The  antithesis  between  nationality  and 
mere  race  is  most  important,  and  too  often  ignored.  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  a  nation  of  a  single  strain.  The  national  idea 
is  the  fusion  of  reconcilable  races,  the  creation  of  an  artificial 
and  ideal  individuality,  of  a  consolidating  pattern  ;  the  absorp- 
tion of  discordant  races  and  their  replacement  by  a  central 
idea  which  subordinates  instinct  to  society.  Later  civilisation 
means  little  else,  if  we  reflect,  than  a  gradual  process  of  this 
description  ;  and  it  is  not  a  little  curious  that  the  distinctive 
greatness  of  English  literature  is  largely  due  to  the  admission 
and  naturalisation  of  foreign  influences — to  England's  free 
trade  in  ideas,  to  the  openness  of  her  literary  ports.  What 
would  it  have  proved  had  it  remained  purely  insular  ;  if  Italy, 
France,  and  Germany  had  not  infused  both  form  and  spirit ; 
above  all,  if  it  had  not  been  inspired  by  the  noble  rhythm  of 
the  Englished  Bible  and  by  the  supreme  models  of  Greece  and 


46  DISRAELI 

Rome  ?  Disraeli's  wit,  which  is  to  find  a  due  consideration 
hereafter,  is  half  eighteenth  century  in  form,  half  talmudic. 
The  shape  of  his  ideas  was  also  partly  determined  by  the 
time  of  his  birth  and  by  the  circumstances  of  his  home. 

He  was  born  at  the  parting  of  the  ways.  His  early  read- 
ing, and,  indeed,  his  cast  of  mind,  were  steeped  in  the  style 
of  the  eighteenth  century  ;  but  the  movements  of  the  nine- 
teenth, the  significance  of  the  French  Revolution  and  of 
Napoleon,  who  had  made  all  things  new,  simmered  in  him 
from  the  first,  and  his  earliest  reflections  were  how  to  attune 
the  democratic  idea  to  the  vital  institutions  of  an  ancient 
empire.  As  regards  his  home,  he  was  truly,  as  he  has  put  it, 
"  born  in  a  library ; "  and  this  circumstance  contributed  as 
much  as  others  to  a  certain  detachment  of  thought  which  in 
politics  afforded  him  the  clue  to  the  character  of  movements, 
and,  above  all,  to  the  movements  of  character  ;  in  fiction,  as 
will  be  apparent  from  my  ninth  chapter,  it  led  him  to  regard 
things  as  they  appeared  of  themselves,  and  not  always  as  they 
seemed  to  others  ;  while  under  the  play  of  fancy  he  trans- 
posed their  outward  environments  to  accentuate  their  essence. 
Of  his  father,  himself  a  most  interesting  study,  I  shall  have 
more  to  say  in  my  eighth  chapter.  Here,  I  only  wish  to  draw 
attention  to  the  fact  that  Isaac  Disraeli's  influence  on  his 
son's  ideas  was  twofold.  On  the  one  hand,  his  views  on  "  pre- 
disposition," on  the  use  of  solitude,  on  the  true  meaning  of 
education,  on  historical  "  cause  and  pretext,"  on  the  hollowness 
of  "joint-stock  felicity,"  on  the  self-recognition  of  creative 
minds  before  their  late  acknowledgment  by  contemporaries, 
with  others  glanced  at  in  my  later  chapters,  were  directly 
derived  by  Disraeli  from  his  father.  From  him,  too,  he 
inherited  his  fondness  for  Burke.  On  the  other  hand,  Disraeli's 
native  leanings  reacted  against  many  of  that  peripatetic  philo- 
sopher's opinions.  His  interpretation  of  the  Bible  was,  if  not 
at  variance  with,  at  any  rate  different  from  his  father's,^  and 
was,  I  fancy,  shared  by  his  sister.  His  admiration  for 
Boling broke,  as  genius  and  constitutional  interpreter,  was  in 
direct  opposition,  just  as  that  father's  own  dispassionate  outlook 

'  His  conviction,  however,  that  our  Lord  came  to  fulfil,  not  to  abolish, 
was  directly  derived  from  his  father's  "  Genius  of  Judaism." 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  47 

remained  independent  and  often  the  reverse  of  his  own  early 
associations.  Byron,  however,  entered  Disraeli's  mental  being 
through  his  father ;  and  of  three  main  influences  on  his  boy- 
hood— the  Bible,  Bolingbroke,  and  Byron  (strange  conjunc- 
tion ! ),  the  last  was  not  the  least. 

Outside  politics,  the  contradictions  combined  in  Disraeli's 
mind  are  patent  throughout  his  fiction,  and  they  were  recon- 
ciled by  his  leading  idea  that  everything  great  in  the  world 
springs  from  individuality  alone.  Thus,  for  example,  as 
regards  Destiny,  he  was  both  for  free  will  and  fatalism — the 
individual  will  was  for  him  the  universal  fate.  If  a  man,  he 
has  said,  is  ready  to  die  for  an  object,  he  must  attain  it  unless 
he  has  utterly  miscalculated  his  powers.  Then  again,  the 
twin  sympathies  of  his  mind,  both  with  antique  authority  and 
modern  revolution,  its  bias  towards  the  Chartism  of  Sybil,  the 
chivalry  of  her  aristocratic  deliverer,  and  the  discipline  of  her 
time-honoured  creed,  towards  the  noble  personality  of  "  Theo- 
dora" in  Lothair  {his  finest  heroine),^  and  the  noble  ideals 
of  "Coningsby" — these  are  reconciled  by  the  national  idea, 
the  idea  that  sets  earned  privilege  and  reciprocal  duties  above 
and  against  illimitable  and  irresponsible  "  rights."  *'  Con- 
spiracies are  for  aristocrats,  not  for  nations." 

In  this  regard  it  is  most  interesting  to  observe  the  influence 
of  Shelley  on  Disraeli — a  subject  which  has  been  treated  by 
Dr.  Richard  Garnett  in  a  masterly  monograph.^  From  many 
of  his  conclusions  I  dissent,  but  his  facts  are  most  enlighten- 
ing, and  form  an  entrancing  comment  on  the  character  of 
"Herbert"  in  Venetia.  He  shows  that  probably  through 
Trelawny,  whom  he  met  often  at  Lady  Blessington's,  Disraeli 
gleaned  many  recollections  and  even  thoughts  and  words, 
unpublished  till  the  Shelley  Papers  were  given  to  the  world 
some  years  afterwards  ;  that  his  description  too  of  the  ethereal 
poet  as  "  a  golden  phantom  "  is  probably  Trelawny's  own  ; 
that  subtle  shades  of  admiring  appreciation  are  to  be  traced 

1  I  am  informed,  through  the  kindness  of  my  friend  Mr.  George 
Russell,  that  the  original  of  "  Theodora "  was  one  Madame  Mario, 
7ide  Jessie  White. 

2  "  Shelley  and  Lord  Beaconsfield."  Blackwood,  1 88 1.  For  private 
circulation.     Only  twenty-five  copies  printed. 


48  DISRAELI 

throughout  ;  that  Disraeli  was  undoubtedly  influenced  by 
Shelley's  thoughts.  The  discovery  of  these  in  some  por- 
tions of  the  Revolutionary  Epick  (where  "  Demogorgon "  is 
introduced)  does  not  seem  to  me  conclusive  ;  nor  are  the 
verbal  resemblances  singled  out  for  comparison  very  striking. 
I  cannot  close  this  branch  of  my  subject  without  noticing  a 
fact  almost  unknown.  In  1825,  when  Disraeli  was  a  stripling, 
he  published  an  anonymous  pamphlet,  which  may  be  found 
in  the  British  Museum,  on  the  restrictions  enforced  by  the 
Government  upon  the  British  working  of  American  mines. 
The  tract  is  boldly  dedicated  "  by  a  sincere  admirer " 
to  Canning,^  as  "one  who  has  reformed  without  bravery  or 
scandal  of  former  times  or  persons  ;  asking  counsel  of  both 
times  ;  of  the  ancient  times  that  zvhich  is  best,  of  the  modern 
times,  thai  which  is  fittest ;''  and  it  further  contains  this  re- 
markable passage,  if  we  remember  its  date,  about  America — 

"...  The  prosperity  of  England  mainly  depends  upon 
its  relations  with  America,  and  in  proportion  as  the  energies 
of  America  are  developed  and  her  resources  strengthened, 
will  the  power  and  prosperity  of  England  be  confirmed  and 
increased." 

In  the  domain  of  politics  Disraeli,  as  I  shall  show  at  length, 
divined  in  the  national  institutions  the  chief  engine  for  the 
revival  of  unity  and  for  social  regeneration.  When  he  de- 
nounced the  Conservatism  of  the  early  'forties  as  an  "organised 
hypocrisy,"  he  did  so  just  because,  as  it  seemed  to  his  eyes,  the 
hopes  once  centred  on  Peel  as  the  restorer  of  a  truly  "national " 
party  were  being  shattered  by  his  failure,  under  ordeal,  to 
govern,  to  develop  the  institutions  which  he  was  called  on 
to  preserve,  by  his  erection  of  "  registration "  into  a  party 
idol,  by  his  policy  of  polls,  by  his  cold  indifference  and  sus- 
picion of  the  youthful  regenerators,  who  confronted  the  middle 
classes  with  the  middle  ages.  "  Whenever,"  indignantly  urged 
Disraeli  in  1845,  "whenever  the  young  men  of  England  allude 
to  any  great  principle  of  political  or  parliamentary  conduct, 
are  they  to  be  recommended  to  go  to  a  railway  committee  ?  " 
And  he  found  in  his  once  chiefs  temperament  of  discouraging 
formality  and  timorous  desire  for  "  fixity  of  tenure,"  for  staying 

1  Canning's  ideas  on  variety  of  representation  influenced  Disraeli. 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  49 

power,  a  reason  for  the  stultification  of  the  House  of  Lords  : 
"...  It  is  not  Radicalism  ;  it  is  not  the  revolutionary  spirit  of 
the  nineteenth  century  which  has  consigned  '  another  place ' 
to  illustrious  insignificance  ;  it  is  '  Conservatism '  and  a  Con- 
servative dictator." 

Disraeli  was  one  born  with  aristocratic  perceptions,  yet 
with  a  bent  "  popular  "  rather  than  "  democratic  "  in  the  strict 
sense  of  those  terms.  "  Democracy  "  in  the  concrete  he  con- 
sidered as  the  unsettlement  of  compact  nationality  through 
the  undue  preponderance  of  a  single  class  ;  democracy  in  the 
abstract  he  considered  as  a  lever  for  ambitious  tribunes.  But 
the  welfare  of  the  people  was  ever  his  chief  concern,  and  he 
knew  full  well  that  it  is  constantly  foiled  by  the  side-aims  of 
those  vociferous  on  its  behalf.  When  he  first  appeared  on 
the  political  horizon,  neither  of  the  great  historical  parties 
owned  popular  sympathies.  The  Tories  dreaded  "Radicalism" 
because  they  were  blind  to  the  possibilities  of  its  adoption 
into  the  order  of  the  State.  Of  the  Whigs,  democratic  en- 
thusiasms were  at  once  the  tools  and  the  abhorrence.  Disraeli 
determined  to  infuse  them  into  those  free  yet  settled  institu- 
tions of  which  the  Tories  were  the  natural  but  forgetful 
guardians.  His  main  purpose  from  the  outset  was  to  implant 
the  new  ideas  of  freedom  on  the  ancient  soil  of  order  ;  to 
engraft  them  productively  without  uprooting  the  native 
undergrowth  ;  to  harmonise  the  modern  democratic  idea 
with  those  English  traditions  which  had  always  harboured 
its  older  forms.  His  work  was  to  accommodate  federal  to 
feudal  principles  ;  to  render  democracy  in  England  national 
and  natural ;  to  popularise  leadership  ;  to  make  democracy 
aristocratic  in  the  truest  sense  of  the  term  ;  to  undo  the 
closed  aristocracy  of  caste  and  to  revive  the  open  aristocracy 
of  excellence  wherever  displayed.  My  next  two  chapters 
investigate  this  idea  ;  and  it  will  be  found  afterwards,  when 
I  discuss  his  notion  of  empire  and  his  attitude  towards  our 
colonies,  that  his  ideals  of  Great  Britain's  destiny  and  re- 
sponsibility flow  straight  from  this  ruling  outlook.  The 
same  consideration  applies  to  the  many  other  problems 
which  I  shall  discuss  in  the  light  of  Disraeli's  relations  to 
them.      Throughout,  in  one  form  or  another,  and   in  many 

E 


50  DISRAELI 

applications,  the  free  play  of  responsible  individuality  forms 
the  keynote.  He  constantly  opposes  it  alike  to  the  barren 
uniformity  of  republican  models,  and  to  the  centralising 
dictatorship  whether  of  groups  or  of  tyrants.  He  contrasts 
the  personal  with  the  mechanical.  The  State  in  his  eyes 
should  prove  the  sympathetic  expression  of  the  whole  com- 
munity. These  aspects  will  find  ample  exposition  hereafter. 
In  this  place  I  wish  only  to  quote  their  bold  and  broad 
emphasis  in  the  unfamiliar  pamphlet  of  JV/iat  is  he?  with 
one  citation  from  which  I  opened  this  chapter.  It  will 
explain  those  passages  in  his  Riinnymede  Letters  and  The 
Spirit  of  Whiggism,  where  he  expects  and  adjures  Peel  to 
head  a  "  national  party  "  and  to  replace  confederacies  by 
a  creed.  It  will  also  illustrate  that  passage  in  the  election 
address  to  High  Wycombe  during  1832,  which  preludes  his 
mission  as  the  renewer  of  a  popular  Conservatism,  "... 
Englishmen,  behold  the  unparalleled  empire  raised  by  the 
heroic  energies  of  your  fathers,  rouse  yourselves  in  this  hour 
of  doubt  and  danger,  rid  yourselves  of  all  that  political  jargon 
and  factious  slang  of  Whig  and  Tory,  two  names  with  one 
meaning,  used  only  to  delude  you,  and  unite  in  forming  a 
great  national  party.  .  .  ." 

"  The  first  object  of  a  statesman,"  he  says  (and  he  was 
then  barely  twenty-nine  years  of  age),  "  is  a  strong  Govern- 
ment, without  which  there  can  be  no  security.  Of  all  countries 
in  the  world,  England  most  requires  one,  since  the  prosperity 
of  no  society  so  much  depends  upon  public  confidence  as 
that  of  the  British  nation." 

He  then  declares  that  the  old  principle  of  exclusion 
(common  alike  to  the  Whig  oligarchs  and  the  debased 
Toryism  of  Eldon)  is  dead. 

"...  The  moment  the  Lords  passed  the  Reform  Bill 
from  menace  instead  of  conviction,  the  aristocratic  principle 
of  government  in  this  country,  in  my  opinion,  expired  for 
ever."  The  democratic  principle  becomes  necessary  to  main- 
tain a  Government  at  all.  "  If  the  Tories,"  he  continues, 
*'  indeed  despair  of  restoring  the  aristocratic  principle,  and 
are  sincere  in  their  avowal  that  the  State  cannot  be  governed 
with  the  present  machinery,  it  is  their  duty  to  coalesce  with 


DISRAELI'S   PERSONALITY  51 

the  Radicals/  and  permit  both  political  nicknames  to  merge 
into  the  common,  the  intelligible,  and  the^  dignified  title  of  a 
national  party."  '^ 

He  proceeds  to  prove  in  a  few  decisive  strokes  that  the 
towns  are  now  the  safeguards  against  any  military  invasion 
of  rights,  and  that  a  coalition  between  the  then  Whigs  and 
the  then  Tories  is  impossible  ;  the  only  alternative,  there- 
fore, is  the  inclusion  of  the  democratic  principle. 

"  Without  being  a  system-monger,"  he  resumes,  repeating 
the  refrain  of  his  previous  Revolutionary  Epick,  "  I  cannot 
but  perceive  that  the  history  of  Europe  for  three  hundred 
years  has  been  a  transition  from  feudal  to  federal  principles." 
If  not  their  origin,  these  contending  principles  have  blended 
with  all  the  struggles  that  have  occurred. — "  The  revolt  of 
the  Netherlands  impelled,  if  it  did  not  produce,  our  revolu- 
tion against  Charles  I.  That  of  the  Anglo-American  colonies 
impelled,  if  it  did  not  produce,  the  Revolution  in  France." 
"  This,"  he  says,  "  is  not  a  party  pamphlet,  and  appeals 
to  the  passions  of  no  order  of  the  State."  "  It  is  wise,"  he 
concludes,  "to  be  sanguine  in  public  as  well  as  in  private 
life  ;  yet  the  sagacious  statesman  must  view  the  present  por- 
tents with  anxiety,  if  not  with  terror.  It  would  sometimes 
appear  that  the  loss  of  our  colonial  empire  must  be  the 
necessary  consequence  of  our  prolonged  domestic  discussions. 
Hope,  however,  lingers  to  the  last.  In  the  sedate  but  vigorous 
character  of  the  British  nation  we  may  place  great  confidence." 
The  very  pressing  unsettlement  of  those  days  will  afterwards 
claim  a  mention  ;  nor  should  I  now  omit  Disraeli's  sentence 
in  his  Crisis  Examined,  to  the  effect  that  "  Lord  Grey 
refusing  the  Privy  Seal  and  Lord   Brougham  soliciting  the 

1  It  must  be  remembered  that  in  1833  the  Radicals  were  a  very  small 
band,  and  differed  vastly  from  their  successors  of  the  Manchester  School. 
They  were  thoroughly  discontented  with  the  middle-class  legislation  of 
the  Reform  Bill,  and  they  were  violently  opposed  to  the  Whig  pretensions 
to  popular  emancipation.     Disraeli  shared  these  feelings. 

-  It  should  be  remembered  that  in  the  brilliant  characterisation  of 
Bolingbroke  in  Disraeli's  Letter  to  Lord  Lyndhurst,  he  says,  "that 
despite  the  Whig  affectation  of  popular  sympathies,  and  the  Tory 
admiration  of  arbitrary  power,  Bolingbroke  penetrated  appearances,  and 
perceived  that  the  choice  really  lay  '  between  oligarchy  and  democracy.' " 


52  DISRAELI 

Chief   Barony "   were    "  two    epigrammatic  episodes   in   the 
history  of  reform  that  never  can  be  forgotten." 

Mr.  John  Morley  has  well  observed  that  about  all  Disraeli's 
utterance  there  was  something  spacious.  The  ideas  that  I 
am  about  to  examine  are  not  to  be  brushed  away  by  the 
sneers  of  triflers.  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  them,  and 
however  they  may  fairly  be  encountered  by  criticism,  dis- 
sented from  or  condemned  by  judgment,  they  are  still  alive. 
Disraeli  bathed  the  political  landscape  in  a  large  and  luminous 
atmosphere.  To  literature,  as  I  shall  hope  to  show,  he  lent 
a  fresh  and  original  charm.  Over  existence  he  never  ceased 
to  spread  the  glow  of  endeavour,  of  aspiration,  and  of  purpose. 
His  heart  was  with  the  youth  and  the  labour  of  England.  He 
made  for  the  strength  and  union  of  every  divergent  class.  He 
struck  and  stirred  the  national  imagination. 

Disraeli's  sincerity  was  that  of  a  master  in  the  world's 
studio,  imbuing  the  fainter  shapes  around  him  with  the  vivid 
colours  of  the  true  pictures  in  his  own  brain.  It  was  that, 
also,  of  a  great  man  of  action  who  translates  dreams  into  deeds. 
It  is  not  often  that  the  literary  mind  is  allied  to  a  practical 
bent.  He  himself  has  reminded  us  that  such  an  union — "as 
in  the  case  of  Caius  Julius  " — is  irresistible.  He  was  always 
himself,  and  never  under  "  the  dangerous  sympathy  with  the 
creations  of  others."  He  believed  that  "  every  man  performs 
his  office,  and  there  is  a  Power,  greater  than  ourselves,  that 
disposes  of  all  this."  ^ 

Disraeli's  European  prominence  is  evidenced  through  the 
space  occupied  by  the  polyglot  literature  relating  to  him  in 
the  book  catalogue  alone  of  the  British  Museum.  It  extends 
to  eleven  of  those  huge  pages.  His  importance  at  home  before 
he  became  pre-eminent  is  shown  by  a  shower  of  virulent  abuse. 

Science  assures  us  that  the  difference  between  life  and 
death  is  that  the  former  holds  the  powers  of  growth  and 
reproduction,  while  inanimateness  is  incapable  of  either.  A 
great  man  is  surely  one  who  possesses  and  imparts  these 
qualities  of  life.  Disraeli,  without  question,  powerfully 
affected  the  thought  of  his  generation  and  the  destinies  of 
the  future. 

'  A  sentence  from  his  appeal  to  Mr.  Gladstone  in  1859. 


CHAPTER  II 
DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION 

I  WISH  to  head  this  chapter  by  a  most  striking  passage 
hitherto  unquoted.  It  occurs  in  the  fourth  of  Disraeli's 
Letters  to  the  Whigs,  published  in  the  first  numbers 
of  The  Press — an  organ  founded  by  him  in  1853  for  the 
exposition  of  his  views.^  It  unites  the  brilliance  of  his  youth 
to  the  ripeness  of  his  prime.  It  is  a  wonderful  forecast  of 
the  future,  and  it  embodies  his  ideas  at  a  time  when  the 
"  Coalition "  alliance  of  Peelites,  Whigs,  and  Manchester 
Radicals — one  of  "  suspended  opinions  " — was  entering  on  the 
career  which  closed  so  disastrously.  In  1833,  the  "aristo- 
cratic" principle  had  been  crippled.  The  problem  now  was 
how  to  bring  the  new  democracy  into  line  with  an  old 
monarchy — 

"...  I  see  before  me  a  numerous  and  powerful  party, 
animated  by  chiefs  whose  opinions  in  favour  of  all  that  can 
advance  the  cause  of  pure  democracy  have  been  openly  pro- 
claimed. Amongst  that  party  no  doubt  there  are  some  more 
moderate  than  others,  some  who  march  blindfold  towards  the 
goal  which  those  of  bolder  vision  see  clear  through  the  mists 
of  faction.  But  all  unite  in  the  march  of  the  caravan  towards 
the  heart  of  the  desert  ;  and  if  there  be  those  who  then  discover 
that  the  fountain  which  allures  them  on  is  but  the  mirage,  it 
will  be  too  late  to  return,  and  it  will  be  destruction  to  pause. 
...  If  England  is  to  retain  that  empire  which  she  owes  to  no 
natural  resources,  but  to  the  various  influences  of  a  most  com- 
plicated and  artificial,  but  most  admirable  and  effective  social 

1  The  Press,  June  11,  1853.  The  whole  series  is  full  of  great  strokes  ; 
and  there  is  also  a  critique  on  the  dividing  periods  of  English  history, 
which  is  niost  bold  and  original. 

53 


54  DTSBAELT 

system,  she  must  gather  into  one  united pJtnlanx  all  ivho  hold  the 
doctrine  that  England,  to  be  safe,  must  he  great.  To  continue 
free,  she  must  rest  upon  the  intermediate  institutions  that  fence 
round  monarchy,  as  the  symbol  of  executive  force,  from  that 
suffrage  of  unalloyed  democracy  which  represents  the  invading 
agencies  of  legislative  change.  Our  system  of  policy  must 
be  opposed  to  all  those  who  by  rules  of  arithmetic  would 
reduce  the  empire  on  which  the  sun  never  sets  to  the  isle  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  leave  our  shores  without  defence 
against  a  yet  craftier  Norman.  Our  measures  of  reform 
must  be  so  framed  as  to  gain  all  the  purposes  of  good  govern- 
ment, yet  to  admit  under  the  name  of  reform  no  agency  that 
lends  by  its  own  inevitable  laws  to  the  explosion  of  the 
machinery  whose  operations  you  pretend  it  will  economise 
and  quicken. 

"  By  what  plausible  arguments  were  the  dwellers  in  the 
Piraeus  admitted  to  vote  in  the  Athenian  assembly  ?  .  .  . 
Hence  from  that  moment  arose  the  dictator  and  the  dema- 
gogue, .  .  .  the  flatterer  and  the  tyrant  of  mobs  ;  hence,  the 
rapid  fluctuations,  the  greedy  enterprises,  the  dominion  of  the 
have-nots,  the  ruin  of  the  fleet,  the  loss  of  the  colonies,  the 
thirty  tyrants,  the  vain  restoration  of  a  hollow  freedom  .  .  . 
licence — corruption — servitude — dissolution.  Give  the  popular 
assembly  of  Great  Britain  up  to  the  controlling  influence  of 
the  lowest  voters  in  large  towns,  and  you  have  brought  again  a 
Piraeus  to  destroy  your  Athens." 

We  shall  see  ere  the  close  how  he  foiled  the  schemes  for 
representing  the  refuse  of  opinion. 

A  great  statesman  is  a  man  inspired  by  great  ideas  ;  and, 
since  all  history  is  the  visible  and  particular  development 
of  unseen  and  universal  ideas,  it  must  happen  that  a  great 
.statesman  versed  in  experience  and  intuition  forecasts  and 
foreknows.  For  the  prophet  is  the  inverted  historian  or  philo- 
sopher :  he  descries  the  currents  ahead  which  the  other 
analyses  in  retrospect.  "  To  be  wise  before  the  event,"  urged 
Disraeli  more  than  once,  "  is  statesmanship  of  the  highest 
order." 

Throughout  the  preceding  century  two  broad  aspects  of 


DEMOCRACV  AND  EEPRESENTATION  55 

politics,  that  is  to  say  of  applied  national  energy,  present 
themselves  in  England.  They  were  and  remain  divergent, 
but  they  are  and  remain  mutually  instructive  and  indispensable. 

The  one  regards  our  kingdom  as  an  elastic  society,  the 
outcome  of  native  habits  expressing  national  temperament  ; 
as  a  soil  of  distinctive  character  and  capacity,  to  which  new 
plants,  if  destined  to  flourish,  must  be  acclimatised,  but  on 
to  which,  or  against  which,  they  must  never  be  forced. 

The  other — the  "  philosophic  "  school — regards  the  soil  as 
a  mere  medium  to  be  exhaustively  manured  by  chemical  pro- 
cesses for  the  introduction  of  growths  of  every  origin,  as  a 
sort  of  "subtropical  garden."  It  perceives  an  idea  suitable 
to  other  communities  or  other  conjunctures,  and  immediately 
hastens  to  transplant  it.  In  like  manner  it  perceives  an 
institution  suitable  to  the  race  and  temper  of  England,  but 
unsuitable  to  some  alien  race  and  temper.  It  is  at  once  for 
forcible  adoption.  It  prefers  the  rigid  logic  of  abstract  notions 
to  the  flexibilities  of  human  nature.  Its  attitude  is  mechanical 
instead  of  being  sympathetic. 

The  one  is  in  its  essence  national ;  the  other,  if  we  reflect, 
international.  The  aim  of  the  one  is  the  evolution  of 
individuality  embodied  in  a  nation  ;  that  of  the  other,  the 
ultimate  effacement  of  nations,  and  their  replacement  by 
cosmopolitanism. 

These  are  the  logical  issues  of  each  system.  With  the 
former  Burke  identified  himself,  when  he  recoiled  from 
following  his  party  into  the  anti-national  abstractions  of  the 
French  Revolution,  With  the  latter  Mr,  Gladstone  identified 
himself,  when  he  broke  loose  from  the  national  idea,  and  advo- 
cated the  "  right "  of  every  small  community  to  "  govern  " 
itself.  The  one  depends  on  popular  privileges  and  class 
responsibilities  evenly  distributed— the  outcome  of  national 
treaty  and  compromise,  the  tact  born  of  struggle,  not  of 
upheaval.  The  other  hinges  on  inherent  "  rights,"  which  are 
infinite,  ubiquitous,  abstract,  and  indefinite. 

Of  the  former,  from  first  to  last,  Disraeli,  like  Canning 
before  him,  was  a  fearless  exponent.  "  Change,"  he  said  in 
his  famous  Edinburgh  speech  of  1867,  "  is  inevitable,  but  the 
point  is  whether  that  change  shall  be  caused  only  in  deference 


56  DTSRAETJ 

to  the  manners,  the  customs,  the  laws,  the  traditions  of  the 
people,  or  whether  it  shall  be  carried  in  deference  to  abstract 
principles  and  arbitrary  and  general  doctrines.  .  .  .  The 
national  system,  although  it  may  occasionally  represent  the 
prejudices  of  a  nation,  never  injures  the  national  character, 
while  the  philosophic  system,  though  it  may  occasionally 
improve  .  .  .  the  condition  of  the  country,  precipitates  pro- 
gress, may  occasion  revolution  and  destroy  states.  .  .  ."  His 
attitude  to  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  depended,  as  I  shall 
prove  in  another  chapter,  on  this  dominant  idea.  It  is  in  close 
connection  with  that  idea  of  personality  which  I  have  already 
characterised,  for  nationality  is  itself  the  ideal  personality 
which  combines  races  in  communion.  It  is  also  in  close  con- 
nection with  that  mode  of  government  which  seeks  salvation 
from  society  and  not  from  the  State  ;  and  it  is  bound  up  with 
all  the  characteristics  that  distinguish  a  "  nation  "  from  a 
"  people."  Disraeli's  achievement  was  to  adjust  the  spirit 
of  England  to  the  spirit  of  the  age. 

Our  two  parties  are,  after  all,  only  the  strategical  forces  in 
the  big  campaign  of  ideas.  Without  great  generals  they  con- 
stantly tend  to  forget  the  issues  which  nominally  enlist  them. 

At  the  period  when  Disraeli  first  stood  on  the  hustings, 
"  Reform  "  had  been  forced  on  the  Whigs  by  the  "  Radicals," 
just  as  "  Repeal  "  was  to  be  forced  some  twelve  years  later  on 
the  Conservatives  by  the  Cobdenites.  To  be  a  "  Radical  "  com- 
mitted one  to  neither  of  the  legitimate  camps.  The  Whigs 
had  entered  on  their  kingdom  after  long  years  of  hopeless 
exclusion.  They  were  bent  on  engrossing  office,  and  none 
detested  the  new-fangled  doctrines  more  than  Lord  Grey. 
Disraeli's  purpose  from  the  very  first  was  to  widen  and  popu- 
larise Toryism,  but  never  to  maintain  the  exclusive  system  of 
the  Whigs  in  power  by  the  popular  machinery  to  which  they 
so  often  resorted.  In  a  purged  and  quickened  Conservatism 
lurked  irresistible  possibilities,  true  benefit  to  the  nation  and 
empire  at  large,  and  a  golden  occasion  for  himself. 

I  think  that  if  the  oil  could  have  blent  with  the  vinegar,  if 
Peel  could  ever  have  coalesced  with  Lord  John  Russell, 
Disraeli  would  have  had  less  chance  in  politics,  and  must 
have  been  thrown  back  on  literature. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  57 

His  consistency  stands  out  prominent  in  review.  It  is  one 
of  ideas.  It  is  only  by  dint  of  long  retrospect  over  a  whole 
career  that  we  can  decide  in  the  case  of  any  statesman  whether 
he  has  controlled  his  phases,  or  drifted  with  them. 

From  the  first  Disraeli  compassed  his  reconciliation  of  new 
ideas  with  ancient  institutions  on  definite  principles,  at  once 
national  and  constructive,  as  opposed  to  destructive  and  inter- 
national theories.  He  desired  it  through  engraftment,  not 
uprootal ;  through  the  defence  and  development  of  a  consti- 
tution which  is,  in  fact,  the  British  character  expressed  by 
the  modulations  of  the  national  voice,  and  not  by  the  shouts 
of  mechanical  majorities.  He  wished  in  every  case  to  preserve 
its  efficiency  by  strengthening  its  tone  and  enlarging  its  vents  ; 
while,  in  the  process,  he  displayed  an  insight  into  the  instincts 
of  classes  which  the  conversance  of  genius  with  ideas  can  alone 
empower.  Of  modern,  of  cosmopolitan  "  Liberalism,"  he  said, 
as  late  as  1872,  that  its  drift  and  spirit  were  "to  attack 
the  institutions  of  the  country  under  the  name  of  reform,  and 
to  make  war  on  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people  of 
this  country  under  the  pretext  of  progress." 

What  then  were  the  "  new  ideas  "  and  the  "  old  institu- 
tions "  } 

That  form  of  government  which  is  most  national  will  be 
best,  because  the  least  liable  to  sudden  and  social  revolutions  ; 
and  that  form  will  be  most  national  which  is  most  genuinely 
representative  ;  while  true  representation  is  one  of  power  dis- 
tributed, not  centred.  It  follows  that  any  Government  that 
does  not  mirror  the  nation  will  break  down.  This  was  the 
real  meaning  of  the  French  Revolution. 

"...  'You  will  observe  one  curious  trait,'  said  Sidonia 
to  Coningsby,  '  in  the  history  of  this  country — the  depository 
of  power  is  always  unpopular.  As  we  see  that  the  Barons,  the 
Church,  and  the  King  have  in  turn  devoured  each  other,  and 
that  the  Parliament,  the  last  devourer,  remains,  it  is  impossible 
to  resist  the  impression  that  this  body  also  is  doomed  to  be 
destroyed.' — 'Where  then  would  you  look  for  hope.^' — 
'  In  what  is  more  powerful  than  laws  and  institutions,  and 
without  which  the  best  laws  and  the  most  skilful  institutions 
may  be  a  dead  letter  and  the  very  means  of  tyranny,  in  the 


58  DTSKAELl 

national  character.  It  is  not  in  the  increased  feebleness  of  its 
institutions  that  I  see  the  peril  of  England  ;  it  is  in  the 
decline  of  its  character  as  a  community.  .  .  .  You  may 
have  a  corrupt  Government  and  a  pure  community  ;  you 
may  have  a  corrupt  community  and  a  pure  Administration. 
Which  would  you  elect  ?'  —  '  Neither,'  said  Coningsby, 
'  I  wish  to  see  a  people  full  of  faith,  and  a  Government  full 
of  duty.' " 

Are  the  modern  ideas  of  untempered  democracy — 
Carlyle's  "  despair  of  finding  any  heroes  to  govern  you  " — 
compatible  with  real  representation,  as  contrasted  with  the 
mechanism  of  elective  systems  or  the  shams  of  paper  con- 
stitutions }  Can  these  ideas  ever  prove  expressive  of  true 
nationality — the  character  of  a  united  people — as  opposed  to 
the  conflicting  instincts  of  unreconciled  races,  or  the  factious 
claims  of  divergent  groups  ?  Is  not  the  mechanical  subordi- 
nation to  the  "  State  "  of  Socialism  hostile  to  an  individual 
"  nationality "  ?  How,  in  the  ferment  of  modern  progress, 
can  the  new  wine  be  prevented  from  bursting  the  old  bottles  } 
How  can  government  and  free  action,  independence  and 
inter-dependence,  be  allied  in  living  reality .?  How  can 
opinion  be  organised  into  allegiance  to  leadership  ?  How 
can  traditions  be  rendered  less  formal }  How  can  discipline 
and  development,  authority  and  elasticity,  combine  }  How 
can  the  machinery  of  national  custom  be  brought  into  real 
accord  with  popular  aspirations,  and  the  mainstay  of  cha- 
racter with  the  modern  speed  of  movement  ?  "  Certainly," 
as  Carlyle  insisted,  "  it  is  the  hugest  question  ever  heretofore 
propounded  to  mankind." 

In  the  proem  to  the  Revolutionary  Epick,  Disraeli  says 
that  the  French  Revolution  marks  the  greatest  political  crisis 
since  the  Siege  of  Troy.  The  paroxysm  of  that  Revolution 
produced  two  hollow  fictions,  the  "  Rights  of  Man  "  and  "  the 
Sovereignty  of  the  People." 

Before  illustrating  the  train  of  Disraeli's  ideas,  let  me 
touch  on  these  two  doctrines. 

The  Rights  of  Man.  What  is  the  real  meaning  of  a  dogma 
which  annihilates  the  duties  of  citizens  in  declaring  the 
licence   of  their  "rights;"    in  affirming   personal  claims  as 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  59 

distinguished  from  popular  or  legal  privileges  ;  in  destroying 
the  community  by  exalting  the  person  ? 

It  was  based  on  Rousseau's  figment  of  a  "  Return  to 
Nature." 

All  "  Returns  to  Nature  "  are,  if  we  reflect,  a  harking  back 
to  chaos,  a  denial  of  the  whole  self-developing  social  state 
which  God  has  ordained  for  man.  They  are  the  protests  of 
instinct  against  order,  of  "  the  People  "  against  "  the  Nation," 
of  isolation  against  fusion,  of  "  naturalism  "  against  "  spirit- 
ualism." One  way  or  the  other,  they  signify  relapses  into 
brute  force  and  animal  conflict. 

Rousseau's  "  Return  "  was  a  sentimental  one,  for  senti- 
mentality often  attends  materialism.  The  best  side  of 
Rousseau  was  that  he  did  undoubtedly  leaven  the  irreverence 
of  his  generation  with  some  feeling  for  God.  But  Rousseau 
invented  a  past  on  which  he  founded  his  hopefulness  of 
sensibility  —  an  inverted  optimism.  He  cried  aloud  in 
hysterics,  "  Man  is  born  free  ;  everywhere  he  is  in  chains." 
To  what  freedom  was  man  born  }  The  freedom  of  con- 
fusion. The  order  that  he  evolves  is  the  parent  of  his  true 
freedom — the  freedom  to  work  and  serve,  and  to  receive 
justice.  The  real  "  Rights  of  Man  "  are  the  rights  to  justice 
that  order  creates.  And  if  that  order  belies  its  name,  and 
injustice,  disorder,  masquerade  as  divine  government,  why 
then  Fifth  Monarchy  men,  French  Revolutions,  ruining 
cataclysm,  witness  to  the  heavenly  destinies,  and  order  is 
born  once  more.  Rousseau's  sobs  resembled  those  of  the 
hero  of  French  melodrama,  who  under  stage  moonshine  and 
stage  misfortune,  always  ejaculates,  "  Ma  mere  !  "  His  mere 
emotion  worked  on  nerves  of  sterner  fibre  and  facts  of  harder 
quality. 

Since  Disraeli's  death,  Nietzsche  has  propounded  a 
physical  "  Return  to  Nature,"  which,  however,  excludes  the 
humanitarian  side  of  the  French  "  Equality."  He  has  sighed 
for  a  gigantic  brood  of  antediluvian  anarchs.  He  has  tried 
to  make  anarchy  heroic.  But  a  monster  is  not  even  a  man, 
still  less  a  hero. 

All  such  systems  must  fail,  because,  as  Disraeli  has  finely 
said,  "  Man  is  born  to  adore  and  to  obey."     They  contradict 


6o  DISRAELI 

the  spiritual  facts  of  our  structure.  For  the  true  Right  of 
Man  is  to  lead  wisely  and  be  led  loyally  in  public  affairs  ; 
neither  to  steal  nor  be  stolen  from  in  private.  These  are 
what  Carlyle  terms  his  "  correctly  articulated  mights^ 
Leadership,  loyalty,  and  social  honesty  belong  to  no  "  state 
of  nature  "  of  which  record  or  even  guess  is  possible.  And 
Disraeli  agreed  with  Carlyle  when  the  latter  wrote,  after  the 
former  had  in  effect  said  the  same :  " .  .  .  '  Supply  and 
demand  '  we  will  honour  also  ;  and  yet  how  many  '  demands  ' 
are  there,  entirely  indispensable,  which  have  to  go  elsewhere 
than  to  the  shops  !  " 

But  Nietzsche's  theories  are  luckily  untranslatable  into 
action,  and  inconsistent  with  any  form  of  the  "  state." 
Rousseau's  theories,  on  the  other  hand,  are  the  more  dangerous 
because  they  are  feasible.  The  "  Rights  of  Man  "  is  a  doc- 
trine absolutely  at  issue  with  the  "  Rights  of  Nations."  The 
abstract  notion  ' of  universal  "rights"  is  also  at  variance 
with  the  pressing  impulses  of  physical  "  wants."  Low  wages 
and  long  hours  are  not  redressed  by  the  apparatus  of  ballot- 
boxes  or  the  cant  of  independence.  Physical  needs  due  to 
economical  causes,  which  can  be  modified  only  by  the  earnest 
statesmanship  of  leaders  rising  to  their  responsibilities,  are 
not  to  be  dismissed  by  the  vague  generalities  of  "  moral 
force."     This  aspect  is  powerfully  emphasised  in  Sybil. 

"...  Add  to  all  these  causes  of  suffering  and  discontent 
among  the  workmen  the  apprehension  of  still  greater  evils, 
and  the  tyranny  of  the  '  butties,'  or  middlemen,  and  it  will 
with  little  difficulty  be  felt  that  the  public  mind  of  this  dis- 
trict was  well  prepared  for  the  excitement  of  the  political 
agitator,  especially  if  he  were  discreet  enough  rather  to 
descant  on  their  physical  sufferings  and  personal  injuries, 
than  to  attempt  the  propagation  of  abstract  political  principles 
with  which  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  sympathise.  ...  It 
generally  happens,  however,  that  where  a  mere  physical 
impulse  urges  the  people  to  insurrection,  though  it  is  often  an 
influence  of  slow  growth  and  movement,  the  effects  are  more 
violent  and  sometimes  more  obstinate  than  when  they  move 
under  the  blended  authority  of  moral  and  physical  necessity, 
and  mix  up  together  the  rights  and  the  wants  of  man." 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  6i 

The  pendant  to  the  "  rights  "  is  the  "  equality  "  of  man. 
Here,  again,  nothing  is  more  self-evident  than  man's  natural 
inequaHty.  The  whole  development  of  societies,  which  we 
call  civilisation,  is  for  the  very  purpose  of  redressing  or  . 
relieving  these  inequalities  of  occasion,  of  equipment.  By 
nature  man,  like  the  brute,  starts  without  equality  and  with- 
out rights.  By  his  "  mights  "  he  has  created  these  ideas,  and 
acquired  something  of  their  substance  by  his  superior  facul- 
ties, by  the  spiritual  energy  which  differentiates  him.  His 
"  rights  "  spring  from  the  "  law  "  which  he  has  propagated. 
The  political  equality  which  he  has  founded  more  than  com- 
pensates him  for  the  personal  inequality  of  his  beginnings. 
The  "personal  equation,"  indeed,  would  imply  the  reversal 
both  of  his  nature  and  of  his  craftsmanship  ;  of  all  conditions, 
moreover,  compatible  with  variety  of  character  and  freedom 
of  action.  It  means,  in  fact,  a  denial  of  the  existence  of  that 
natural  aristocracy  which  we  find  in  every  class  and  every 
order,  and  which  decides  that  everywhere  the  game  of 
"follow  my  leader"  must  be  played.  What  is  wanted  is  a 
real  aristocracy  which  "  claims  great  privileges  for  great  pur- 
poses." What  is  always  dangerous  is  the  monopoly  of  action 
by  an  aristocracy  that  shirks  its  duties,  that  plays  at  govern- 
ment, that  is  dilettante  in  leadership  or  sybarite  in  life  ;  or 
that,  as  in  the  three  decades  preceding  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, revenges  its  exclusion  from  influence  by  multiplying 
sinecures.  It  is  such  a  class,  as  contrasted  with  individuals — 
wherever  found — of  genuine  capacities,  that  so  often  evoked 
Disraeli's  irony,  and  has  lately  been  satirised  by  Mr.  Barrie 
in  a  whimsy  accentuating  the  natural  inequality  of  man. 
Speaking  through  the  lips  of  "  Egremont,"  in  that  fine  passage 
where  he  cheers  "  Sybil " — the  noble  daughter  of  the  people, 
disappointed  by  the  Charter  and  the  Chartists — with  a  vista 
of  the  future,  Disraeli  says :  "  The  mind  of  England  is  the 
mind  ever  of  the  rising  race.  Trust  me  it  is  with  the 
People.  .  .  .  Predominant  opinions  are  generally  the  opinions 
of  the  generation  that  is  vanishing.  ...  It  will  be  a  product 
hostile  to  the  oligarchical  system.  The  future  principle  of 
English  politics  will  not  be  a  levelling  principle  ;  not  a  prin- 
ciple adverse  to  privileges,  but  favourable  to  their  extension. 


62  DISRAELI 

It  will  seek  to  ensure  equality,  not  by  levelling  the  f civ,  but  by 
elevating  the  many!'  And  again,  the  great  manufacturer, 
"Millbank,"  in  Coningsby,  is  made  to  remark  (after  giving  dis- 
tinction as  the  basis  of  aristocracy),  "  that  '  natural  aristocracy  ' 
ought  to  be  found  .  .  .  among  those  men  whom  a  nation 
recognises  as  the  most  eminent  for  virtue,  talents,  and  pro- 
perty, and,  if  you  please,  birth  and  standing  in  the  land. 
They  guide  opinion,  and  therefore  they  govern.  I  am  no 
leveller.  I  look  upon  an  artificial  equality  as  equally  per- 
nicious with  a  factitious  aristocracy ;  both  depressing  and 
checking  the  enterprise  of  a  nation.  I  like  man  to  be  free — 
really  free  ;  free  in  his  industry  as  well  as  his  body.  .  .  ."  As 
Carlyle  puts  it :  " .  .  .  I  say  you  did  not  make  the  land  of 
England  ;  and  by  the  possession  of  it  you  are  bound  to  furnish 
guidance  and  government  to  England.  .  .  ." — "A  high  class 
without  duties  to  do  is  like  a  tree  planted  on  precipices."  ^ 

It  should  not  be  forgotten,  and  I  shall  afterwards  illus- 
trate, that  in  these  and  many  other  respects  Carlyle's  teach- 
ing chimes  with  Disraeli's.  "...  That  speciosities  which 
are  not  realities  can  no  longer  be.  .  .  .  What  is  an  aris- 
tocracy .''  A  corporation  of  the  best,  of  the  bravest.  .  .  . 
Whatsoever  aristocracy  does  not  even  attempt  to  be  that, 
but  only  to  wear  the  clothes  of  that,  is  not  safe  ;  neither 
is  the  land  it  rules  in  safe.  .  .  .  We  must  find  a  real  aristo- 
cracy. ..."     And  so  with  priesthood. 

In  "Angela  Pisani  " — a  dazzling  dream-picture  of  three 
generations  in  France — by  Disraeli's  early  intimate,  Lord 
Strangford,  occurs  a  striking  outburst  against  natural  equality, 
that  solecism  in  ideas,  that  remainder  biscuit  of  the  French 
Revolution. 

".  .  .  Go  and  preach  equality  to  the  deep  seas,  .  .  .  that 
the  oyster  is  equal  to  the  whale  or  the  starfish  to  the  shark  ; 
you  will  succeed  there  sooner  than  you  will  be  able  to  alter 
the  relative  grades  of  the  five  races  of  humanity.  It  is  a  laiv 
which  man  must  unmake  himself,  ere  he  can  change,  that  the 
Caucasian  will  aspire  as  the  highest,  and  the  negro  will  grovel 
as  the  basest."  Disraeli's  attitude  was  the  same  in  Contarini 
Fleming : — 

1   Vide  "  Chartism,"  p.  31;. 


"...  The  law  that  regulates  man  must  be  founded  on  a 
knowledge  of  his  nature,  or  that  law  leads  him  to  ruin.  What 
is  the  nature  of  man  ?  In  every  clime  and  every  creed  we 
shall  find  a  new  definition.  .  .  .  What  then  ?  Is  the  German 
a  different  animal  from  the  Italian  ?  Let  me  inquire  in  turn 
whether  you  conceive  the  negro  of  the  Gold  Coast  to  be  the 
same  being  as  the  Esquimaux  who  tracks  his  way  over  the 
Polar  snows  ?  The  most  successful  legislators  are  those  who 
have  consulted  the  genius  of  the  people.  .  .  .  One  thing  is 
quite  certain,  that  the  system  we  have  pursued  to  attain  a 
knowledge  of  man  has  entirely  failed.  ..." 

Although  "  Equality "  ignores  alike  the  instinct  and  the 
clue  of  "  race,"  it  asserts  in  practice  the  pandemonium  of  race- 
warfare  ;  because  in  imagining  that  man  is  born  equipped,  it 
ignores  his  great  acquirement  of  "  nationality,"  which  blends 
the  reconcilables  of  "  race  "  into  one  ideal  whole — a  league 
of  common  traditions,  language,  habits,  institutions,  duties, 
and  privileges — of  "  solidarity  " — without  the  bond  of  blood 
or  the  necessity  for  bloodshed.  Nationality  thus  brings  the 
specific  qualities  of  races  into  the  common  stock.  Disraeli 
has  often  harped  on  the  theme  that  a  "  nation  "  is  no  "  aggre- 
gate of  atoms,"  but  a  corporate  individuality  ;  and  indeed  the 
force  of  individuality  lies  at  the  root  of  all  his  conceptions. 
But  in  truth  the  whole  fiction  of  "  natural  equality  "  springs 
from  a  sort  of  native  envy.     As  Goethe  sings — 

"  Men  stick  at  reaching  what  is  great, 
Yet  only  grudge  an  equal  state. 
To  deem  your  equals  all  you  know — 
No  envy  worse  the  world  can  show." 

Crises,  according  to  him  in  1833,  were  determined  by  causes 
far  other  than  these  figments  of  "  natural "  laws — 

"...  When  I  examine  the  state  of  European  society  with 
the  unimpassioned  spirit  which  the  philosopher  can  alone 
command,  I  perceive  that  it  is  in  a  state  of  transition — one 
from  feudal  to  federal  principles.  This  I  conceive  to  be  the 
sole  and  secret  cause  of  all  the  convulsions  that  have  occurred 
and  are  to  occur."  ^ 

'  Contarini  Fleming.  For  a  like  passage  of  about  the  same  date,  of. 
ante,  p.  48. 


64  DISRAELI 

All  this  has  proved,  and  is  proving  true.  The  civil  and 
legal  "  equality  "  of  united  nationality  and  of  unifying  en:ipire 
is  replacing  the  material  "  equality  "  of  classes  or  of  individuals. 

"Natural"  equality  means  "physical"  equality,  which 
was  the  true  gist  of  the  many  cries  of  the  French  Revolution. 
But  its  hurricane  swept  away  classes  and  privilege  alone  ; 
the  "  equality "  it  created,  that  is  to  say,  was  social  and  civil. 
Of  civil  "  equality  "  Disraeli  was  always  the  spokesman  ;  for 
in  England,  civil  equality  means  abolition  of  monopolies. 
Privilege,  as  the  ennobling  boon  of  merit,  stands  open  to  all, 
and  the  limits  of  the  political  orders  or  social  classes  to  which 
it  is  attached,  are  corrected  by  the  wide  freedom  of  public 
opinion  and  discussion.  "  I  hold  that  civil  equality,"  said 
Disraeli  at  Glasgow  in  1873,  "the  equality  of  all  subjects 
before  the  law,  and  a  law  which  recognises  the  personal  rights 
of  all  subjects,  is  the  only  foundation  of  a  perfect  common- 
wealth." His  most  striking  utterances  in  The  Press  from 
1853  to  1859,  ^ri<^  this  Glasgow  address,  are  perhaps  his  most 
notable  commentaries  on  this  theme. 

These  are  no  mere  subtleties.  "  Physical  equality  "  has 
exercised  a  very  practical  bearing  on  the  doctrines  of  the 
Manchester  School  and  their  relations  to  Sir  Robert  Peel's 
double  reform,  above  all  to  those  interests  of  Labour  which 
both  affected.  I  shall  show  this  in  my  next  chapter,^  Suffice 
it  now  to  say  that  Disraeli  descried  that  in  adopting  the 
"  Right  to  physical  happiness  "  doctrine  of  Manchester,  at  the 
very  moment  when  he  unshackled  commerce  and  undid  the 
Corn  Laws,  Peel  had  adopted  a  principle  which  logically 
demands  an  "unlimited  employment  of  labour" — a  thing 
inconsistent  at  once  with  his  restriction  of  Labour  by 
removing  the  restraints  on  competition,  and,  as  Disraeli 
thought,  with  the  very  existence  of  states  and  of  nations. 
Peel  thus  became  unconsciously  cosmopolitan,  at  the  very 
juncture  when  he  settled  commerce  and  unsettled  labour — 

"The  leading   principle   of  this   new  school,"   explained 

Disraeli,  treating  of  "equality"  in  1873,  "is  that  there  is  no 

happiness  which  is  not  material,  and  that  every  living  being 

has  a  right   to   share   in   that  physical    welfare.     The   first 

^  And  cl.post  at  the  opening  of  Chapter  VI. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  65 

obstacle  to  their  purpose  is  found  in  the  rights  of  private 
property.  Therefore  these  must  be  abolished.  But  the  social 
system  must  be  established  on  some  principle,  and  therefore 
for  the  rights  of  property  they  would  substitute  the  rights  of 
Labour.  Now  these  cannot  fully  be  enjoyed,  if  there  be  any 
liiuit  to  eniploynient.  The  great  limit  to  employment,  to  the 
rights  of  Labour,  and  to  the  physical  and  material  equality  of 
man  is  found  in  the  division  of  the  ivorld  into  states  and  nations. 
Thus,  as  civil  equality  would  abolish  privilege,  social  equality 
would  destroy  classes,  so  material  and  physical  equality 
strikes  at  the  principle  of  patriotism,  and  is  prepared  to 
abrogate  countries." 

It  was  just  this  perception  that  enabled  Disraeli  nearly 
thirty  years  earlier  to  predict — as  we  shall  see — so  much 
that  has  come  and  is  coming  to  pass. 

The  third  cry  of  the  French  Revolution  was  Human 
Brotherhood.  The  Christian  ideal  of  inter-nationality,  which, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  may  ultimately  be  realised  through  the 
Brotherhood  of  Nations,  is  the  Brotherhood  of  Man  under 
the  Fatherhood  of  God.  But  the  fraternity  of  revolution 
eliminated  both  the  Brotherhood  of  Nations  and  the  Father- 
hood of  God.  The  result  was  a  murderous  anarchy — a 
Brotherhood  of  Cain. 

Such  disorders  compelled  their  own  cure  in  their  own 
country.  Although  they  flooded  Europe  with  opinions  at 
war  with  beliefs,  and  upheld  a  cosmopolitan  model,  they 
brought  the  French  a  deliverer  who  declined  into  a  despot. 
Personality  avenged  herself  And  the  eventual  remedy  for 
Napoleonism  has  in  its  turn  been  found  in  a  Republic  which, 
discarding  the  sovereignty  of  man,  has  also  discarded  the 
sovereignty  of  God. 

The  effects  of  such  a  government  are  best  perceived  in  two 
recent  and  remarkable  books,  M.  Demolin's  "A  quoi  tient  la 
Superiorite  des  Anglo-Saxons,"  and  M.  Cerfberr's  "  Essai  sur 
le  Mouvement  Social  et  Intellectuel  en  France  depuis  1789." 
The  perpetual  preponderance  of  the  bourgeoisie  has  raised  a 
bureaucracy.  The  Charter  of  the  Revolution  has  culminated 
in  middle-class  officialism.  The  over-centralisation  of  govern- 
ment by  a   few   groups,   who   do   not   represent   the  varied 

F 


66  DISRAELI 

elements  of  a  great  nation,  has  caused  a  dearth  of  individual 
initiative,  a  lack  of  personal  self-reliance  and  social  free-play, 
a  tendency  towards  the  withering  dictatorship  of  state- 
socialism,  which  underlies  the  unfitness  of  France  for 
colonisation,  and  which  both  these  acute  thinkers  depict  and 
deplore  ;  while  the  late  Professor  Mommsen,  commenting  on 
Caesar's  union  of  Democracy  with  Empire,  employs  the  same 
arguments. 

That  state  which  bests  represents  national  character  enjoys 
the  freest  play  of  institutions,  favours  the  finest  shape  of 
spirit,  public  and  private,  will  wield  the  most  formative 
influence  among  nations,  expand  the  most  easily,  and  propagate 
itself  by  expansion.  And  the  state  which  best  embodies 
the  national  will,  is  where  the  legislature  is  in  keenest  touch 
with  the  executive,  where  institutions  are  organic,  where 
representation  is  popular,  and  where  centralisation  is  foreign 
to  the  national  genius.  This  has,  unfortunately,  never  been 
realised  in  France.  She  was  centralised  to  an  amazing  degree 
long  before  her  memorable  outburst ;  and  De  Tocqueville  has 
well  shown  that  her  attempts  to  unite  judicial  with  legislative 
functions  were  the  surest  signs  of  her  lack  of  "  solidarity." 
Her  great  upheaval  was  predicted  by  Bolingbroke  more  than 
forty  years  before  it  occurred,  just  because  he  discerned  that 
her  ancient  constitution  ignored  a  popular  representation. 
De  Tocqueville  himself,  too,  only  proves  that  the  aristocratic 
centralisation  of  old  France  has  been  replaced  by  the  collec- 
tivist  centralisation  of  its  new  democracy.  Both  in  spirit  are 
the  same.  Centralisation,  whatever  its  forms,  precludes  the 
fair  and  free  distribution  of  activities.  It  hoards  and  absorbs 
the  national  character.  These  are  its  original  sins.  But 
Disraeli  has  also  pointed  out  that,  for  many  reasons,  France 
remains  the  sole  ancient  country  that  can  afiford  to  begin  again. 

So  much  for  the  "  Rights  of  Man."  One  word  still  on 
"  the  Sovereignty  of  the  People." 

"A  people,"  said  Disraeli,  as  early  as  1836,  in  his  Spirit 
of  Whiggism,  "is  a  species  ;  a  civilised  community  is  a  nation. 
Now  a  nation  is  a  work  of  art  and  a  work  of  time.  A  nation 
is  gradually  created  by  a  variety  of  influences.  .  .  .  These 
influences  create  the  nation — these  form  the  national  mind. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   67 

.  .  .  If  you  destroy  the  political  institutions  which  these 
influences  have  called  into  force,  and  which  are  the  machinery 
by  which  they  constantly  act,  you  destroy  the  nation.  The 
nation,  in  a  state  of  anarchy  and  dissolution,  then  becomes  a 
people  ;  and  after  experiencing  all  the  consequent  misery, 
like  a  company  of  bees  spoiled  of  their  queen  and  rifled  of 
their  hive,  they  set  to  again  and  establish  themselves  into  a 
society.  .  .  ." 

"The  People"  is  a  phrase  of  physiology,  not  of  politics.  It 
is  an  abstruse  name  for  a  multitude ;  it  ignores  temperament 
and  will.  Stripped  of  its  high  sound,  its  "  Sovereignty  "  means 
government  by  miscellany,  the  censorship  of  the  census.  Its 
political  bearings  are  as  purely  arithmetical  as  are  the  cor- 
responding ethical  bearings  of  the  Utilitarian  creed  ;  for  they 
both  disregard  the  many-sided  nature  of  man.  Although 
derived  from  the  speculations  of  some  late  seventeenth- 
century  republicans  in  England,  the  French  application  of  the 
theory — Burke's  "  Wisdom  told  by  the  Head  " — was  entirely 
new.  It  was  not  republicanism,  the  government  by  qualified 
members  of  ordered  classes :  it  was  a  despotism  by  the 
crowd  as  crowd.  Such  a  "  Democracy  "  has  never  been  the 
permanent  scheme  of  government  in  any  nation,  although 
"  Liberal  opinion "  has  relied  too  often  on  its  simplicity. 
"  One  man,  one  vote,"  quantity  instead  of  quality  is  in  truth 
no  principle  at  all ;  and  this  attempt  to  confuse  the  Book  of 
Wisdom  with  the  Book  of  Numbers  is  a  feat  reserved  for 
modern  periods  alone.  All  earlier  systems  of  democracy  were 
more  or  less  discriminate,  for  no  indiscriminate  state  can 
cohere,  and  both  freedom  and  order  are  based  on  discrimina- 
tion. The  Attic  Democracy  demanded  a  degraded  class  of 
unleisured,  unemancipated  slaves.  The  American  Republic, 
which  has  freed  serfs  and  abolished  leisure,  possesses  a 
peculiar  stability,  which  will  outwear  its  occasional  corruption 
because  it  exists  through  a  landed  democracy — one  impossible 
in  overcrowded  Europe — as  we  shall  find  Disraeli  emphasising 
in  my  American  chapter. 

In  a  word,  the  logical  outcome  of  the  "  Sovereignty  of  the 
People  "  is  the  tyranny  of  plebiscite.  But  a  "  plebiscite " 
dispenses  with  the  very  principle  of  representation,  for  where 


68  DISRAELI 

all  decide  equally,  why  should  any  be  represented  ?  Political 
power  exercisable  by  all  can  only  arise  when  all  are  suffi- 
ciently qualified.  But  it  is  always  the  some,  never  the  all, 
who  are  competent.  Even  in  their  proper  sphere  of  merely 
personal  choice,  how  false  and  fatal  most  plebiscites  have 
proved!— "Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas." 

Vox  populi  is  only  I'ox  Dei  through  the  gradual  in- 
stitutions that  nations  create;  not  through  the  wayward 
moods  and  momentary  clamours  of  "the  people."  The  whole 
problem  is  how  at  once  to  range  and  to  raise  public  opinion 
— the  popular  conscience  ;  how  to  preserve  moral,  without 
retarding  material,  progress ;  how  to  inspire  "  progress  "  itself 
with  the  conviction  that  it  consists  in  following  the  highest 
leadership;  how,  again,  to  ensure  such  leadership  by  the 
constant  association  of  duty  with  privilege,  and  responsibility 
with  power ;  how  to  recruit  it  by  every  means  that  the  spread 
of  enlightenment  can  furnish. 

"  On  man  alone  the  fate  of  man  is  placed," 

sang  Disraeli,  in  the  Revolutionary  Epick  ;  and  of  "  opinion  " — 

"  Physical  strength  and  moral  were  united, 
And  I,  the  pledge  of  their  true  love  was  born." 

But  for  this  purpose  the  national  imagination  must  be 
reckoned  with.  "...  When  that  faculty  is  astir  in  a  nation," 
he  has  insisted,  "it  will  sacrifice  even  physical  comfort  to 
follow  its  impulses."  The  struggle  will  always  continue  for 
national  unity,  but  it  takes  generations  to  perceive  that 
colonial  federation,  for  example,  is  as  requisite  a  means  to 
this  idea  as  native  institutions  representing  real  elements. 
"...  A  political  institution  is  a  machine ;  the  motive  power 
is  the  national  character,"  says  "  Sidonia  ; "  "  Society  in  this 
country  is  perplexed,  almost  paralysed.  How  are  the  elements 
of  the  nation  to  be  again  blended  together  ?  In  what  spirit 
is  that  reorganisation  to  take  place  .-*  .  .  ." 

And  again,  so  late  as  1870,  in  the  preface  to  Lothair, 
summarising  his  works,  Disraeli  observes :  " .  .  .  National 
institutions  were  the  ramparts  of  the  multitude  against  large 
estates  exercising  political  power  derived  from  a  limited  class. 


DEINIOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION    69 

The  Church  was  in  theory — and  once  it  had  been  in  practice 
— the  spiritual  and  intellectual  trainer  of  the  people.  The 
privileges  of  the  multitude  and  the  prerogatives  of  the 
sovereign  had  grown  up  together,  and  together  they  had 
waned.  Under  the  plea  of  Liberalism,  all  the  institutions 
which  were  the  bulwarks  of  the  multitude  had  been  sapped 
and  weakened,  and  nothing  had  been  substituted  for  them. 
The  people  were  without  education,  and,  relatively  to  the 
advance  of  science  and  the  comfort  of  the  superior  classes, 
their  condition  had  deteriorated,  and  their  physical  quality  as 
a  race  was  threatened.  .  .  ." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  incongruity  of  modern  political 
machinery  was  never  far  from  Disraeli's  thoughts.  "... 
Whatever  may  have  been  the  faults  of  the  ancient  govern- 
ments," he  muses  in  Contarini  Fleming,  "  they  were  in  closer 
relation  to  the  times,  the  countries,  and  to  the  governed,  than 
ours.  The  ancients  invented  their  governments  according  to 
their  wants.  The  moderns  have  adopted  foreign  policies,  and 
then  modelled  their  conduct  upon  this  borrowed  regulation. 
This  circumstance  has  occasioned  our  manners  and  our 
customs  to  be  so  confused  and  absurd  and  unphilosophical. 
.  .  ,  He  who  profoundly  meditates  upon  the  situation  of 
modern  Europe,  will  also  discover  how  productive  of  misery 
has  been  the  senseless  adoption  of  Oriental  customs  by 
Northern  peoples.  .  .  ."  And  Disraeli  also  distinguished  be- 
tween the  direct  democracy  of  multitude  and  that  of  "  popular  " 
institutions. 

Nothing  is  less  truly  "  popular "  than  "  the  people  "  as  a 
"  democracy,"  for  the  despotism  of  many  is  as  odious  as 
the  arbitrary  will  of  one,  and  even  more  fatal  than  the  govern- 
ment by  groups  of  the  few.  This  is  the  distinction  on  which 
he  expatiated  in  a  famous  speech  of  1 847  at  Aylesbury,  where 
he  contrasted  "popular  principles"  with  "Liberal  opinions" — 

"As  it  is  not  the  interest  of  the  rich  and  the  powerful  to 
pursue  popular  principles  of  government,  the  wisdom  of  great 
men  and  the  experience  of  ages  have  taken  care  that  these 
principles  should  be  cherished  and  perpetuated  in  the  form  of 
institutions.  Thus  the  majesty  that  guards  the  multitude  is 
embodied  in  a  throne ;  the  faith  that  consoles  them  hovers 


70  DISRAELI 

round  the  altar  of  a  national  Church  ;  the  spirit  of  discussion, 
which  is  the  root  of  public  liberty,  flourishes  in  the  atmosphere 
of  a  free  Parliament." 

These,  in  the  rough,  are  some  of  Disraeli's  ideas  as  to  the 
new  democracy.  From  the  first,  as  we  shall  see,  he  compassed 
the  renewal  of  the  English  democratic  idea — that  of  demo- 
cracy as  an  elevient — in  opposition  alike  to  the  State  tutelage 
of  the  French,  and  to  that  form  of  democracy  which  means 
the  undue  power  of  one  class  in  the  nation.  His  Reform  Bill 
of  1867  was  the  accomplishment  of  his  earliest  hopes,  and  the 
realisation  of  principles  distinct  from  the  spasms  of  doctrinaire 
"  Liberalism." 

He  regarded  our  Constitution — the  quintessence  of  the 
English  character  immanent  in  English  institutions — as  a  real 
though  limited  monarchy,  tempered  by  a  democracy  which  is 
in  effect  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  natural  aristocracy. 

"Aristocracy,"  as  a  universal  principle  and  not  the 
badge  of  a  particular  class,  is  the  committal  of  political 
privilege  far  more  to  representative  influence  than  to  power- 
ful interests.  A  "  natural "  aristocracy  must  comprehend  and 
absorb  the  superiors  of  every  class  in  all  their  varieties. 

"  The  Monarchy  of  the  Tories,"  Disraeli  exclaimed  in  his 
youth,^  "is  more  democratic  than  the  Republic  of  the 
Whigs."  "The  House  of  Commons,"  he  exclaimed  many 
years  later,  "  is  a  more  aristocratic  body  than  the  House  of 
Lords."  In  each  House,  through  all  its  pronouncements,  he 
recognised  that  the  democratic  element  is  aristocratic,  the 
aristocratic  element  democratic.  That  the  representative 
assembly  of  the  Commons,  which  is  elected,  should  include  all 
that  is  best  from  each  class  which  by  its  qualities  has  earned 
the  boon  of  the  franchise  ;  that  the  representative  assembly, 
which  is  not  elected,  should  include  more  and  more  not  only 
those  whose  aggrandisement  stands  for  the  interests  of 
property,  but  those  too  whose  intellect  and  attainments 
entitle  them  to  distinction.  Nor,  of  course,  can  the  fact  be 
ignored  that  through  hereditary  honours  the  Estate  of  the 
Commons,  which  constantly  reinforces  the  Estate  of  the 
Peers,  is,  in  its  turn,  as  constantly  refreshed  from  the  Estate  of 
>  The  Spirit  of  VVJiiggism. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION    71 

the  Peers.  And  from  first  to  last,  in  theory,  as  well  as  in 
action,  he  upheld  the  land  as  the  deepest  foundation  of 
England's  greatness  of  character,  I  could  quote  passage 
after  passage,  both  from  books  and  speeches,  and  regarding 
subjects  the  most  various,  in  which  he  presses  home  the 
substantial  importance  of  a  territorial  constitution,  and  the 
fact  that  the  landed  interest  is  in  truth  not  only  a  safeguard 
for  freedom  in  peace  and  vigour  in  war,  but  also  an  industrial 
interest  of  the  highest  order  ;  and  doubly  so,  because  by 
sentiment,  by  tradition,  by  its  contribution  to  local  govern- 
ment, to  stability,  to  the  social  scale  of  duties  conditioning 
the  tenure  of  property,  to  physique,  its  influence  is  essential 
and  exceptional.  I  shall  content  myself  with  a  citation  from 
a  speech  of  i860,  and  it  may  be  remembered  that  the  acute 
De  Tocqueville  singles  out  the  self-seclusion  of  the  official 
bourgeoisie  from  the  land  as  a  chief  contributory  to  the  French 
Revolution — 

"...  I  look  round  upon  Europe  at  the  present  moment, 
and  I  see  no  country  of  any  importance  in  which  political 
liberty  can  be  said  to  exist.  I  attribute  the  creation  and 
maintenance  of  our  liberties  to  the  influence  of  the  land,  and 
to  our  tenure  of  land.  In  England  there  are  large  properties 
round  which  men  can  rally,  and  that  in  my  mind  forms  the 
only  security  in  an  old  European  country  against  that  centra- 
lised form  of  government  which  has  prevailed,  and  mnst 
prevail,  in  every  European  country  where  there  is  no  such 
counterpoise.  It  is  our  tenure  of  land  to  which  we  are  in- 
debted for  our  public  liberties,  because  it  is  the  tenure  of 
land  which  makes  local  government  a  fact  in  England,  and 
which  allows  the  great  body  of  Englishmen  to  be  ruled  by 
traditionary  influence  and  by  habit,  instead  of  being 
governed,  as  in  other  countries,  by  mere  police." 

Disraeli  was  always  staunch  to  the  land.  After  the  Corn 
Law  repeal,  he  strove  pertinaciously  till  he  succeeded  in 
removing  those  especial  burdens  which  unfairly  hampered 
their  free  competition,  and  which  were  originally  the  price 
of  peculiar  privileges  then  removed.  But  though  he  always 
desired  a  preponderance  of  the  various  landed  interests,  he 
never  wished  for  their  predominance.     And  to   the  last  he 


72  DTST^AELI 

refused  to  allow  any  spurious  cry  for  especial  measures  on 
their  behalf  to  be  raised  when  a  temporary  depression  due  to 
the  seasons  arose,  which  he  always  distinguished  from  perma- 
nent causes  connected  with  social  revolutions.^ 

To  develop  our  ancient  institutions  was  his  lifelong 
specific.  From  his  earliest  pronouncements,  those  in  the 
Letter  to  Lord  Lyndhiirst,  those  in  What  is  he  ?  and  in 
Gallomania,  those  in  the  Spirit  of  Whiggism,  those  in  his 
first  election  speeches,  extending  over  a  period  of  five  years 
before  he  was  returned,  in  his  three  first  political  novels,  to 
his  latest  orations  on  Conservatism  as  a  "national  "  cause,  he 
laid  the  greatest  stress  on  the  function  and  origin  of  the 
three  co-ordinate  Estates  of  the  Realm — "  popular  classes 
established  into  political  orders "  ^ — which  under  monarchy 
form  our  Constitution.  And,  while  to  the  end  he  praised  that 
mighty  force  of  public  opinion  which  has  in  the  person  of  the 
Press  almost  divested  Parliament  of  its  ancestral  office  as  "the 
grand  inquest  "  of  national  grievances,  he  still  held  the  "organi- 
sation of  opinion  "  to  remain  the  essence  of  the  party  system  ; 
while  he  increasingly  desired  the  presence  in  Parliament  of 
elements  at  once  various  and  choice,^  and  the  absence  from  its 
councils  of  any  preponderant  sects  or  sections.  Like  Burke, 
he  believed  that  Parliament  should  be  under  every  changing 
phase  of  national  development  "  the  express  image  of  the 
feelings  of  the  nation  ; "  like  Bolingbroke,  he  deemed  that  it 
should  be  also  the  collective  assemblage  of  its  wisdom.  He 
regarded  these  "  estates "  as  the  embodiment  of  great  na- 
tional interests  organised  on  the  principle  of  distinct  duties 

•  Cf.  his  fine  speech  on  "Agricultural  Distress,"  April  29,  1879.  He 
urged  the  same,  almost  in  the  same  words,  on  February  17,  1863. 

-  Letter  to  Lord  Lyndhurst.  So,  too,  in  his  early  Spirit  of  Whiggisfn. 
In  a  speech  of  1865  he  defines  an  Estate  as  "a  political  body  invested 
with  political  power  for  the  government  of  the  country  and  for  the  pubhc 
good,"  and  "  therefore  a  body  founded  upon  privilege  and  not  upon 
right,'''  and  "  in  the  noblest  and  properest  sense  of  the  term  an  aristocratic 
body."  Under  the  Plantagenets  it  was  at  one  time  mooted  whether  the 
Law  should  not  be  raised  into  such  an  "  Estate."'  He  says  the  same  in  a 
letter  of  explanation  to  Lord  Malmesbury. 

^  "  Our  constituent  body  should  be  niiinerousQnongh.  to  be  independent, 
and  select  enough  to  be  responsible."  In  1865  he  distinguished  between 
the  constitution,  absorbing  the  best  from  each  class,  and  a  "  democracy  " — 
"the  tyranny  of  one  class." 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   73 

conditioning  privilege  ;  and  he  desired  that,  however  modified, 
they  should  never  be  altered  so  as  to  impair  the  great  national 
institutions  as  whose  buttresses  they  were  built  to  serve. 

Looking  back  historically,  he  discerned  that  some  hundred 
and  twenty  years  before  the  birth  of  English  Liberalism,  a 
country  'and  "  Old  England  "  party,  perplexed  by  dynastic 
and  economic  problems,  confronted  too  by  the  semi-scientific 
rationalism  of  a  new  age,  had  been  first  schooled  into  com- 
prehensive, generous,  and  "  national "  aspirations  by  a  great 
but  lost  leader,  and  had  then  been  baffled  by  a  set  of  great 
families.  Most  of  these  began  by  professing  Republican 
principles,  and  all  of  them  were  branded  in  the  literature  of 
Queen  Anne  as  the  "Venetian  oligarchy."  These  families 
aimed  steadily  for  more  than  a  century  at  engrossing  the 
whole  power  of  the  State.  Their  bias  from  1700  to  Sunder- 
land's peerage  bill  in  17 18,  and  from  17 18  to  the  Reform  Bill 
of  1 83 1  remained  Republican.  But  so  long  as  a  king  was 
content  to  be  a  puppet  dancing  on  their  wires,  and  the  nation 
to  be  cowed  into  lethargy,  they  could  dispense  with  theoretical 
forms,  mainly  upheld  as  a  ladder  towards  oligarchical  power. 
From  time  to  time  they  assumed  popular  causes,  but  some- 
how they  never  succeeded  in  themselves  being  popular, 
because  their  chief  object  as  a  party  organisation  was  "the 
establishment  of  an  oligarchical  government  by  virtue  of  a 
Republican  cry ; "  ^  because,  as  Disraeli  has  again  shown, 
English  revolutions  have  always  been  in  favour  of  privilege 
traditionally  distributed,  while  foreign  revolutions  have  been 
against  all  privilege  whatever  ;  because  the  "  New  Whigs  "  of 
Queen  Anne  and  the  first  two  Georges  sought  a  tabula 
rasa — a  plain  map,  as  opposed  to  the  picture  with  perspective 
of  English  institutions.  They  were  theoretically  for  "  liberty 
and  property  " — the  "  New  Whig  "  catchword  of  Queen  Anne's 
reign  that  replaced  the  old  one  of  "  Liberty  "  alone,  in  which 
both  Whigs  and  Tories  joined  at  the  revolution — but  their 
bias  was  always  more  for  property  than  for  liberty.  They 
sought  to  amass  money  and  power  through  the  amassing 
classes.  They  never  studied  the  varied  interests  of  the 
whole  nation.  Walpole  usurped  their  place,  but  retained 
1  Riinnymede  Letters. 


74  DTSRAELl 

their  influence,  and  by  his  virtue  George  I.  reigned  rather 
than  ruled  over  the  towns  instead  of  over  the  country.  At 
first  these  oligarchs  kicked  against  the  growing  management 
of  a  sole  minister,  but  the  shrewd  steadiness  of  a  superior 
will  overmastered  them,  and  Newcastle  remained  on  Wal- 
pole's  side — the  insignificant  representative  of  their  tamed 
confederacy.  Trade  ceased  to  follow  the  land,  but  tended 
more  and  more  to  acquire  it  by  purchase,  until  a  fresh 
moneyed  oligarchy,  which  acquired  fresh  titles,  was  formed. 
The  great  Chatham  broke  it  for  a  time  ;  and  afterwards 
George  III.  obstinately  mutinied  against  its  shackles.  The 
French  overthrow  transformed  the  Whig  cry  of  Republi- 
canism to  the  Whig  cry  of  Jacobinism.  "...  Between  the 
advent  of  Mr.  Pitt  and  the  resurrection  of  Lord  Grey,  .  .  . 
ever  on  the  watch  for  a  cry  to  carry  them  into  power,  they 
mistook  the  yell  of  Jacobinism  for  the  chorus  of  an  emanci- 
pated people,  and  fancied,  in  order  to  take  the  throne  by 
storm,  that  nothing  was  wanting  but  to  hoist  the  tricolour 
and  to  cover  their  haughty  brows  with  a  red  cap.  This  fatal 
blunder  clipped  the  wings  of  Whiggism  ;  nor  is  it  possible  to 
conceive  a  party  that  had  effected  so  many  revolutions  and 
governed  a  great  country  for  so  long  a  period  more  broken, 
sunk,  and  shattered,  more  desolate  and  disheartened,  than 
these  same  Whigs  at  the  Peace  of  Paris."  But  all  proved 
fruitless,  until  at  last  the  vast  body  of  the  nation — the  real 
"  people  "  —  reasserted  themselves,  and,  by  emphasising 
Parliamentary  reform,  compelled  oligarchs,  mistrustful  of 
them  at  heart,^  to  "do  something."  What  they  "did"  was 
to  aggrandise  the  middle  classes,  on  whom  they  had  always 
relied  ;  and  a  new  revolution  was  the  consequence.  Throughout 
more  than  a  century  and  a  half,  despite  noble  and  national 
intervals,  they  constantly  betrayed  themselves  as  a  "  faction 
who  headed  a  revolution  with  which  they  did  not  sympathise, 
in  order  to  possess  themselves  of  a  power  which  they  cannot 
wield."  In  17 18  they  "sought  to  govern  the  country  by 
swamping  the  House  of  Commons."     In   1836  they  were  for 

>  In  1733  Walpole  objected  to  the  repeal  of  the  Septennial  Act 
precisely  on  the  grounds  that  it  would  involve  over-confidence  in  the 
people,  and  democratise  England. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   75 

''swamping  "  the  House  of  Lords.  Their  drift  was  continued 
against  the  national  institutions,  the  conjoined  independence 
and  inter-dependence  of  which  thwarted  their  inveteracy. 
Their  plan  in  the  end  became  avowedly  cosmopolitan  ;  and 
when  that  occurred  it  became  doubly  dangerous,  for  to  "  cen- 
tralisation " — monopoly  of  power — was  added  the  no-principle 
of  "■laissez-faire','  the  abandonment  of  leadership  to  chaos. 

The  great  national  struggle  against  Napoleon  practically 
obliterated  party  distinctions  in  England,  although  there  was 
still  a  remnant  of  those  who  are,  in  Burke's  words  :  "  .  .  .  the 
most  pernicious  of  all  factions,  one  in  the  interest  and  under 
the  direction  of  foreign  powers."  A  lull  ensued.  Both  Toryism 
and  Whiggism  withered  ;  the  first  from  sheer  inanition  of 
those  popular  principles  which  Canning  in  vain  sought  to  re- 
kindle ;  the  second  from  the  sheer  impossibility  of  withstand- 
ing the  name  of  Wellington  and  the  memories  of  Waterloo. 
Toryism  turned  against  freedom  and  Liberalism  against  order. 
Public  spirit  waned  with  the  decay  of  party  opposition.  The 
great  warriors  dwindled  into  petty  place-men  until 

"  Where  are  the  Grenvilles  ?    Turned  as  usual.     Where 
My  friends  the  Whigs  ?     Exactly  where  they  were  ;  " 

until  the  "  Marney "  of  Sybil  expired  "  in  the  full  faith  of 
dukeism  and  babbling  of  strawberry  leaves." 

"From  that  period  till  1830,"  to  resume  my  citations  from 
his  earliest  pamphlets,  "the  tactics  of  the  Whigs  consisted  in 
gently  and  gradually  extricating  themselves  from  their  false 
position  as  the  disciples  of  Jacobinism,  and  assuming  their 
ancient  post  as  the  hereditary  guardians  of  an  hereditary 
monarchy."  To  ease  the  transition,  they  invented  Liberalism, 
a  bridge  to  regain  the  lost  mainland,  and  recross  on  tiptoe 
the  chasm  over  which  they  had  sprung  with  so  much  precipi- 
tation. "  A  dozen  years  of  '  Liberal  principles  '  broke  up  the 
national  party  of  England — cemented  by  half  a  century  of 
prosperity  and  glory,  compared  with  which  all  the  annals  of 
the  realm  are  dim  and  lack-lustre.  Yet  so  weak  intrinsically 
was  the  oligarchical  faction,  that  their  chief,  despairing  to 
obtain  a  monopoly  of  power  for  his  party,  elaborately 
announced  himself  as  the  champion  of  his  patrician  order,  and 
attempted  to  coalesce  with  the  Liberalised  leader  of  the  Tories. 


76  DlSl^AEl.I 

Had  that  negotiation  not  led  to  the  result  which  was  originally 
intended  by  those  interested,  the  Riots  of  Paris  would  not 
have  occasioned  the  Reform  of  London.  It  is  a  groat 
delusion  to  believe  that  revolutions  are  ever  effected  by  a 
nation.  It  is  a  faction,  and  generally  a  small  one,  that  over- 
throws a  dynasty  or  remodels  a  constitution.  A  small  party, 
strong  by  long  exile  from  power,  and  desperate  of  success 
except  by  desperate  means,  invariably  has  recourse  to  a  coup 
d'etat.  .  .  .  The  rights  and  liberties  of  a  nation  can  only  be 
preserved  by  institutions.  .  .  .  Life  is  short,  man  is  imagina- 
tive, our  passions  high.  .  .  .  Let  us  suppose  our  ancient 
monarchy  abolished,  our  independent  hierarchy  reduced  to 
a  stipendiary  sect,  the  gentlemen  of  England  deprived  of  their 
magisterial  functions,  and  metropolitan  prefects  and  sub- 
prefects  established  in  the  counties  and  principal  towns  com- 
manding a  vigorous  and  vigilant  police,  and  backed  by  an 
army  under  the  immediate  order  of  a  single  House  of 
Parliament.  .  .  .  But  where  then  will  be  the  liberties  of 
England  ?  Who  will  dare  disobey  London  ?  .  .  .  When  these 
merry  times  arrive — the  times  of  extraordinary  tribunals  and 
extraordinary  taxes  .  .  .  the  phrase  'Anti-Reformer'  will 
serve  as  well  as  that  of  '  Malignant,'  and  be  as  valid  a  plea 
as  the  former  title  for  harassing  and  plundering  those  who 
venture  to  wince  under  the  crowning  mercies  of  centralisa- 
tion. ...  I  would  address  myself  to  the  English  Radicals. 
I  do  not  mean  those  fine  gentlemen  or  those  vulgar  adven- 
turers who,  in  this  age  of  quackery,  may  sail  into  Parliament 
by  hoisting  for  the  nonce  the  false  colours  of  the  movement ; 
but  I  mean  that  honest  and  considerable  party  .  .  .  who 
have  a  definite  object  which  they  distinctly  avow.  .  .  .  Not 
merely  that  which  is  just,  but  that  which  is  also  practicable, 
should  be  the  aim  of  a  sagacious  politician.  Let  the  Radicals 
well  consider  whether  in  attempting  to  achieve  their  avowed 
object  they  are  not,  in  fact,  only  assisting  t/ie  secret  views  of 
a  party  whose  scheme  is  infinitely  mere  adverse  to  their  oivn  than 
the  existing  system,  whose  geniiis  I  believe  they  entirely  mis- 
apprehend." And  after  commenting  on  the  "preponderance  of 
a  small  class"  under  the  new  arrangement,  the  dangerous 
tendency  towards  centralisation  and  the  perils  of  the  reformed 


DEMOCRACY  AND  RErilESENTATION   ^^ 

municipal  corporations,  he  thus  concludes :  "  If  there  be  a 
slight  probability  of  ever  establishing  in  this  country  a  more 
democratic  government  than  the  English  Constitution,  it  will 
be  as  well,  I  conceive,  for  those  who  love  their  rights,  to 
maintain  that  constitution,  and  if  the  more  recent  measures 
of  the  Whigs,  however  plausible  their  first  aspect,  have  in  fact 
been  a  departure  front  the  democratic  clmracter  of  that  con- 
stitution, it  will  be  as  well  for  the  English  nation  to 
oppose  .  .  .  the  spirit  of  Whiggism." 

No  student  of  the  Croker  Papers  can  deny  that  some  of 
the  leading  Whigs  did  in  the  period  immediately  succeed- 
ing the  Reform  Bill  plot  for  a  Republican  purpose.  No 
historian  will  deny  that  the  Reform  Bill,  by  the  exclusion  of 
"  Labour  "  from  the  franchise,  and  its  deprival  at  the  same 
time  of  the  ancient  rights  which  industry  had  possessed,  left 
open  a  rankling  sore.  In  this  tract  of  1836  Disraeli  ex- 
poses the  machination  and  probes  the  wound.  Even  thus 
early  he  feared  the  predominance  of  a  plutocracy,  "  the 
supreme  triumph  of  cash  "  at  an  era  when,  in  Carlyle's  phrase 
also,  "  Cash  Payment "  is  fast  becoming  "  the  universal  sole 
nexus  of  man  to  man;"  while  he  determined,  if  ever  he  had 
the  power,  to  redress  the  balance  by  including  the  labouring 
classes.  In  1848  he  had  spoken  in  Parliament  on  these 
questions  to  the  same  effect  as  he  had  spoken  on  the  hustings 
in  1833,  even  favouring,  as  he  had  then  advocated,  triennial 
parliaments,  except  |_that  under  the  later  circumstances  it 
might  be  an  unnecessary  change ;  and  denouncing,  as  he  had 
then  denounced,  "  universal  suffrage,"  and  on  the  same  grounds. 
In  this  remarkable  speech  he  forecasted  that  signal  settlement 
which  nearly  twenty  years  later  he  was  to  secure.  I  shall 
shortly  connect  many  utterances  of  his,  ranging  over  more 
than  thirty  years  ;  but  there  are  three  passages  from  this 
declaration,  made  at  a  time  before  the  re-modelling  of  the 
reforms  of  1832  had  been  agreed  upon  as  an  open  problem, 
which  I  ask  leave  to  excerpt  as  a  prelude,  for  they  strike  the  very 
keynotes  of  his  domestic  policy.  Disraeli  pointed  out  that 
the  Radical  Hume  was  ^.dk'mg  property  as  the  basis  of  suffrage 
fully  as  much  as  the  Whigs  had  done  in  1832,  and  that  the 
same  bourgeois  predominance  would  ensue. 


y^  DISRAELI 

"...  Now,  sir,  for  one  I  think  property  is  sufficiently  re- 
presented in  this  House.  I  am  prepared  to  support  the  system 
of  1832  until  I  sec  that  the  circumstances  and  necessities  of 
the  country  require  a  change  ;  but  I  am  convinced  that  zuhen 
tliat  change  comes,  it  will  be  one  that  will  have  more  regard 
for  other  sentiments,  qualities,  and  conditions  than  the  mere 
possession  of  property  as  a  qualification  for  the  exercise  of  the 
political  franchise.''  And  he  then  definitely  protested  against 
being  ranked  among  those  who  accepted  finality  in  that 
"wherein  there  has  been,  throughout  the  history  of  this 
ancient  country,  frequent  and  continuous  change — the  con- 
struction of  this  estate  of  the  realm.  I  oppose  this  new 
scheme  because  it  does  not  appear  to  be  adapted  in  any  way 
to  satisfy  the  wants  of  the  age,  or  to  be  conceived  in  the 
spirit  of  the  times."  He  opposed  it  also  because  this  Radical 
motion,  like  the  great  Whig  measure,  really  implied  the  undue 
ascendancy  of  the  middle  classes — 

".  .  .  The  House  will  not  forget  what  that  class  has  done  in 
its  legislative  enterprises.  I  do  not  use  the  term  '  middle  class  ' 
with  any  disrespect ;  no  one  more  than  myself  estimates  what 
the  urban  population  has  done  for  the  liberty  and  civilisation 
of  mankind  ;  but  I  speak  of  the  middle  class  as  of  one  which 
avowedly  aims  at  predominance,  and  therefore  it  is  expedient 
to  ascertain  how  far  the  fact  justifies  a  confidence  in  their 
political  capacity.  It  was  only  at  the  end  of  the  last  century 
that  the  middle  class  rose  into  any  considerable  influence, 
chiefly  through  Mr.  Pitt,^  that  minister  whom  they  are  always 
abusing."  He  proceeds  to  praise  their  abolition  of  the  slave 
trade:  "...  A  noble  and  sublime  act,  but  carried  with  an 
entire  ignorance  of  the  subject,  as  the  event  has  proved.  How 
far  it  has  aggravated  the  horrors  of  slavery,  I  stop  not  now 
to  inquire.  .  .  .  The  middle  class  emancipated  the  negroes, 
but  they  never  proposed  a  Ten  Hour  Bill.  .  .  .  The  interests 
of  the  working  classes  of  England  were  not  much  considered  in 
that  arrangement.    Having  tried  their  hand  at  Colonial  reform, 

^  ".  .  .  He  (Pitt)  created  a  plebeian  aristocracy  and  blended  it  with  the 
patrician  oligarchy.  He  made  peers  of  second-rate  squires  and  fat 
graziers.  He  caught  them  in  the  alleys  of  Lombard  Street,  and  clutched 
them  from  the  counting-houses  of  Cornhill.  .  .  ." — Sybil, 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   79 

.  .  .  they  next  turned  their  hands  to  Parliamentary  reform, 
and  carried  the  Reform  Bill.     But  observe,  in  that  operation 
they  destroyed,  under  the  pretence  of  its  corrupt  exercise,  the 
old  industrial  franchise,  and  they  never  constructed  a  new  one. 
...  So    that    whether   we   look  to  their    Colonial,  or   their 
Parliamentary  reform,  they  entirely  neglected  the  industrial 
classes.     Having  failed  in  Colonial  as  well  as  Parliamentary 
reform,  .  .  .  they    next    tried  Commercial    reform,    and   in- 
troduced free  imports  under  the  specious  name  of  free  trade. 
How  were  the  interests  of  the  zvorking  classes  considered  in  this 
third  movement  ?     More  than  they  were  in  their  Colonial  or 
their    Parliamentary  reform }     On    the    contrary,    while    the 
interests    of  capital  were   unblushingly   advocated,  the   dis- 
placed labour  of  the  country  was  offered  neither  consolation 
nor  compensation,  but  was  told  that  it  must  submit  to  be 
absorbed  in  the  mass.     In  their  Colonial,  Parliamentary,  and 
Commercial  reforms  there  is  no  evidence  of  any  sympathy 
with  the  working  classes  ;  and  every  one  of  the  measures  so 
forced  upon  the  country  has  at  the   same  time  proved   dis- 
astrous.    Their  Colonial  reform  ruined  the  colonies,  and  in- 
creased  slavery.     Their  Parliamentary  reform,  according   to 
their  own  account,  was  a  delusion  which  has  filled  the  people 
with  disappointment  and  disgust.    If  their  Commercial  reform 
have  not  proved  ruinous,  then  the  picture  .  .  .  presented  to 
us  of  the  condition  of  England  every  day  for  the  last  four  or 
five  months  must  be  a  gross  misrepresentation.     In  this  state 
of  affairs,  as  a  remedy  for  half  a  century  of  failure,  we  are 
under  their  auspices  to  take  refuge  in  financial  reform,^  which 
I  predict  will  prove  their  fourth  failure,  and  one  in  which  the 
interests  of  the  working  classes  ivill  be  as  little  considered  and 
accomplished'' 

The  third  passage  concerns  the  symptoms  of  a  need  and 
the  moment  for  change.  Leaders,  he  argues,  should  educate 
and  prepare  the  people,  and  not  allow  mere  agitators  to 
manufacture  grievances,  but   rather  prick   the   educated  and 

'  The  motion  was  designed  to  throw  the  burden  of  taxation  on  land. 
Disraeli  showed  that  land  was  no  monopoly,  while  it  remained  a  security 
for  good  government  ;  and  that  the  rental  of  property  in  Great  Britain,  if 
equally  divided  among  its  proprietors,  would  only  amount  to  ^170  as  an 
average  annual  income  per  head. 


8o  DISRAELI 

well-born  to  remember  the  duties  by  virtue  of  which  alone 
they  hold  their  position. 

".  .  .A  new  profession  has  been  discovered  which  will 
supply  the  place  of  obsolete  ones.  It  is  a  profession  which 
requires  many  votaries. 

" '  Grammaticus,  rhetor,  geomctres,  pictor,  aliptes, 
Augur,  schocnobates,  mcdicus,  magus.' 

The  business  of  this  profession  is  to  discover  or  invent 
great  questions.  But  the  remarkable  circumstance  is  this — 
that  the  present  movement  has  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
originated  in  any  class  of  the  people.  .  .  .  The  moral  I  draw 
from  all  this — from  observing  this  system  of  organised  agita- 
tion— this  playing  and  paltering  with  popular  passions  for  the 
aggrandisement  of  one  too  ambitious  class — the  moral  I  draw  is 
this  :  why  are  the  people  of  England  forced  to  find  leaders 
among  these  persons  .''  The  proper  leaders  of  the  people  are 
the  gentlemen  of  England.  If  they  are  not  the  leaders  of  the 
people,  I  do  not  see  why  there  should  be  gentlemen.  Yes,  it 
is  because  the  gentlemen  of  England  have  been  negligent  of 
their  duties,  and  unmindful  of  their  station,  that  the  system 
of  professional  agitation,  so  ruinous  to  the  best  interests  of 
the  country,  has  arisen  in  England.  It  was  not  always  so. 
My  honourable  friends  around  me  call  themselves  the  country 
party.  Why,  that  was  the  name  once  in  England  of  a  party 
who  were  the  foremost  to  vindicate  popular  rights— who  were 
the  natural  leaders  of  the  people,  and  the  champions  of  every- 
thing national  and  popular.  .  .  .  When  Sir  William  Wyndham 
was  the  leader  of  the  country  party,  do  you  think  he  would 
have  allowed  any  chairman  or  deputy-chairman,  any  lecturer 
or  pamphleteer,  to  deprive  him  of  his  hold  on  the  heart  of  the 
people  of  this  country  ?  No,  never !  Do  you  think  that  when 
the  question  of  suffrage  was  brought  before  the  House,  he 
would  have  allowed  any  class  who  had  boldly  avowed  their 
determination  to  obtain  predominance  to  take  up  and  settle 
that  question  ?  .  .  ." 

Nor  let  him  be  misconstrued  in  his  views  of  the  ancestral 
temperament  of  the  Whigs.  Nothing  is  more  remarkable  in 
the  chronicle  of  combinations  than  the  fact  that  for  more  than 


DEIMOCEACY  AND  KEPRESENTATION    8i 

a  century  a  party,  the  most  exclusive  in  its  operation,  was 
considered  the  least.  The  recent  publications  of  the  Portland 
and  Harley  Papers  establish  beyond  a  doubt  that  while  the 
"  New  Whigs "  of  Queen  Anne  were  in  large  measure  a 
commercial  syndicate  that  "made  a  corner  "  in  power,  the  old 
Whigs  of  George  III.  were  an  aristocratic  obligarchy  that 
subverted  rule,  both  popular  and  personal,  and  monopolised 
government. 

"  How  an  oligarchy,"  says  Disraeli,  in  the  preface  to 
LotJiair,  "  had  been  substituted  for  a  kingdom,  and  a  narrow- 
minded  and  bigoted  fanaticism  flourished  in  the  name  of 
religious  liberty,  were  problems  long  to  me  insoluble,  but  which 
early  interested  me.  But  what  most  attracted  my  musing,  even 
as  a  boy,  was  the  elements  of  our  political  parties,  and  the 
strange  mystification  by  which  that  which  was  national  in  its 
constitution  had  become  odious,  and  that  which  was  exclusive 
was  presented  as  popular.  What  has  mainly  led  to  this  con- 
fusion of  public  thought,  and  this  uneasiness  of  society,  t's  citr 
habitual  carelessness  in  not  distinguishing  between  the  excellence 
of  a  principle  and  its  injurious  or  obsolete  application.  The 
feudal  system  may  have  worn  out,  but  its  main  principle,  that 
the  tenure  of  property  should  be  the  fulfilment  of  duty,  is  the 
essence  of  good  government.  The  divine  right  of  kings  may 
have  been  a  plea  for  feeble  tyrants,  but  the  divine  right  of 
government  is  the  keystone  of  human  progress,  and  without 
it  government  sinks  into  police  and  a  nation  is  degraded  into 
a  mob."  And  he  continues  with  reference  to  the  Toryism  of 
a  later  period  :  ".  .  .  Those  who  in  theory  were  the  national 
party,  and  who  sheltered  themselves  under  the  institutions  of 
the  country  against  the  oligarchy,  had,  both  by  a  misconcep- 
tion and  a  neglect  of  their  duties,  become,  and  justly  become, 
odious  ;  while  the  oligarchy  .  .  .  had,  by  the  patronage  of 
certain  general  principles  which  they  only  meagrely  applied, 
assumed,  and  to  a  certain  degree  acquired,  the  character  of  a 
popular  party.  But  no  party  was  national ;  one  was  exclusive 
and  odious,  and  the  other  liberal  and  cosmopolitan^ 

His  history — I  speak  as  a  student  of  the  reigns  of  Queen 
Anne  and  the  Georges — will  bear  scrutiny.  Indeed,  he 
carries  the  descent  of  Whiggism  some  steps  further,  and  traces 

G 


82  DISRAELI 

its  pedigree  back  to  the  Roundhead  Independents/  and  even 
the  favourites  of  Henry  VIII.,  enriched  by  the  spoil  of  the 
plundered  abbeys.  But  he  never  denied,  or  wished  to  gain- 
say, the  special  and  signal  qualities  of  the  Whigs'  conspicuous 
service.  They  had  reconciled  religious  liberty  to  the  con- 
secration of  the  State,  and  had  constantly  proved  themselves  a 
"  national  "  party  - — that  solecism  in  words  but  truth  in  ideas. 
This  he  repeatedly  acknowledges.  Neither  did  he  ever  spare 
the  soulless,  cramped,  hollow,  and  shrivelled  Toryism  of  the 
period  preceding  Bolingbroke's  and  Wyndham's  struggle  to  re- 
call it  to  its  origins  ;  or  again  of  the  period  after  Pitt's  generous 
concessions  were  overwhelmed  by  the  Jacobin  deluge,  and 
neutralised  by  the  impersonalities  of  Addington  and  Perceval ; 
by  the  Phariseeism  of  Liverpool's  puzzle-headedness ;  by  the 
pigheadedness  of  Eldon  and  Wetherell.  Nor  did  he  ever 
deny  that  pseudo-Toryism  had  often  nursed  the  very  vices 
of  the  Whig  oligarchy.^  What  he  did  contend,  from  first  to 
last,  was  that  any  party  which  by  its  elements  makes  for 
national  growth  and  union,  and  favours  the  free  play  of  custom 
in  institutions,  is  "  national ; "  while  any  party  encouraging  class 
warfare,  class  preponderance,  and  cosmopolitan  theories  repug- 
nant to  the  genius  of  those  institutions,  will  be  "  anti-national ; " 
that  the  democratic  possibilities  of  our  constitution  must  be 
spread,  as  opportunities  arise  to  enlarge  the  "estate  of  the 
Commons  ; "  yet  that  this  must  never  mean  the  enthronement 
of  either  Oligarchy  or  Democracy  in  place  of  our  mixed  govern- 
ment ;  further,  that  in  all  such  expansion  influence  is  more 

'  ".  .  .  But  thanks  to  parliamentary  patriotism,  the  people  of  England 
were  saved  from  Ship-money,  which  money  the  weaUhy  paid,  and  only 
got  in  its  stead  the  customs  and  the  excise,  which  the  poor  mainly 
supply.  .  .  ." — Sybil. 

2  ".  .  .  Burke  effected  for  the  Whigs  what  Bolingbroke  in  a  preceding 
age  had  done  for  the  Tories  :  he  restored  the  moral  existence  of  the 
party.  He  taught  them  to  recur  to  the  ancient  principles  of  their 
connection.  .  .  .  He  raised  the  tone  of  their  public  discourse  ;  he 
breathed  a  high  spirit  into  their  public  acts.  .  .  ." — Ibid. 

^  ".  .  .  In  my  time  "  (said  Mr.  Ormsby)  "...  a  proper  majority  was 
a  third  of  the  House.  That  was  Lord  Liverpool's  majority.  Lord 
Monmouth  used  to  say  that  there  were  ten  families  in  this  country  who, 
if  they  could  only  agree,  could  always  share  the  government.  Ah  !  those 
were  the  good  old  times  !  .  .  ." 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   83 

important  than  interest  ;  that  theorisers  must  never  blind  us 
to  the  distinction  between  the  "  Rights  of  Man  "  and  the  duties 
of  Engh'sh  citizens,  between  private  and  pubh'c  equality, 
between  the  "  Sovereignty  of  the  People "  and  a  national 
government  ;  that  over-government  is  a  fatal  evil,  but  that 
individual  leadership  is  a  priceless  privilege. 

The  Reform  Act  raised  the  whole  question  of  Represen- 
tation. Is  its  aim  monotony  or  variety  ?  If  it  is  neces- 
sarily elective,  must  it  not  logically  end  in  becoming  a 
plebiscite  .?  Will  a  vote  open  to  all  be  prized  by  any  ?  And 
is  suffrage  any  panacea  for  suffering  .? 

Before  the  Reform  Bill  of  1832,  Disraeli  wrote,  musing  on 
Athens,  and  contrasting  the  strong  simplicity  of  Greek  litera- 
ture with  the  imitative  splendour  of  Rome,  "...  A  mighty 
era,  prepared  by  the  blunders  of  long  centuries,  is  at  hand. 
Ardently  I  hope  that  the  necessary  change  in  human  exist- 
ence may  be  effected  by  the  voice  of  philosophy  alone  ;  but 
I  tremble  and  am  silent.  There  is  no  bigotry  so  terrible  as 
the  bigotry  of  a  country  that  flatters  itself  that  it  is  philoso- 
phical." In  introducing  the  great  Act  of  1867,  he  observed  : 
"...  The  political  rights  of  the  working  classes  which 
existed  before  the  Act  of  1832,  and  which  not  only  existed, 
but  were  acknowledged,  were  on  that  occasion  disregarded 
and  even  abolished,  and  during  the  whole  period  that  has 
since  elapsed  in  consequence  of  the  great  vigour  that  has 
been  given  to  the  Government  of  this  country,  and  of  the 
multiplicity  of  subjects  commanding  interest  that  have  en- 
gaged and  engrossed  attention,  no  great  inconvenience  has 
been  experienced  from  that  cause.  Still,  during  all  that  time 
there  has  been  a  feeling,  sometimes  a  very  painful  feeling, 
that  questions  have  arisen  which  have  been  treated  in  this 
House  without  that  entire  national  sympathy  which  is 
desirable." 

The  Reform  Bill  and  its  sequels  transferred  the  immemorial 
franchise  of  toilers  to  the  middle  classes,  who  were  to  be 
further  aggrandised  by  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws,^     They 

*  That  this  object  was  of  direct  design  is  proved  by  a  correspondence 
of  Cobden  with  Sir  Robert  Peel. 


84  DISKAELI 

raised  the  revolutionary  bitterness  of  Toil  in  England  and 
Religion  in  Ireland,  both  of  which  they  provoked  to  physical 
force.  The  Act  proved  rather  a  measure  for  the  House  of 
Commons  than  for  the  Commons  themselves.  It  was  the 
makeshift  and  stop-gap  of  oligarchy  in  distress.  Its  immediate 
effects  were  to  wipe  out  that  parliamentary  opposition  on 
which  the  health  of  party  government  depends,^  to  encroach  on 
the  independent  influence  of  the  House  of  Lords,  to  end,  it  is 
true  unintentionally,  the  "  Venetian  Constitution  "  of  those  who 
enfeebled  their  cause  in  1837  by  resolving  to  continue  as 
oligarchs  when  the  weapon  of  oligarchy  had  vanished  ;  while 
none  the  less  it  left  the  monarch  a  doge,  and  the  multitude 
a  cipher  ;  a  crown  still  "  robbed  of  its  prerogatives,  a  Church 
controlled  by  a  commission,  and  an  aristocracy  that  does  not 
lead."  Such  were  the  joint  results  of  the  two  large  and  once 
great  parties  that  had  lost  principles  in  their  search  after 
organisation,  the  one  by  thwarting,  the  other  by  tricking  the 
popular  voice.  It  sharpened  the  warfare  between  rich  and 
poor,  afterwards  aggravated  by  the  acceptance  of  the  principle 
of  unrestricted  competition  ;  it  precipitated  a  plutocracy,  it 
helped  to  set  class  against  class,  and  it  became  a  prop  of  that 
calculating  materialism  which  exalted  "  utility."  On  the  other 
hand,  its  indirect  benefits  were  many.  "  It  set  men  a-think- 
ing  "  (I  quote  from  Sybil)  ;  "  it  enlarged  the  horizon  of  political 
experience  ;  it  led  the  public  mind  to  ponder  somewhat  on  the 
circumstances  of  our  national  history  ;  to  pry  into  the  begin- 
nings of  some  social  anomalies  which,  they  found,  were  not 
so  ancient  as  they  had  been  led  to  believe,  and  which  had 
their  origin  in  causes  very  different  from  what  they  had  been 
educated  to  credit  ;  and  insensibly  it  created  and  prepared  a 
popular  intelligence  to  which  one  can  appeal,  no  longer  hope- 
lessly, in  an  attempt  to  dispel  the  mysteries  with  which  for 
nearly  three  centuries  it  has  been  the  labour  of  party  writers 
to  involve  a  national  history,  and  without  the  dispersion  of 

1  In  a  speech  of  1864,  Disraeli  said  :  ".  .  .  For  my  own  part,  believ- 
ing that  parliamentary  government  is  practically  impossible  without  two 
organised  parties,  that  without  them  it  would  be  the  most  contemptible 
and  corrupt  system  which  could  be  devised,  I  always  regret  anything  that 
may  damage  the  just  influence  of  either  of  the  great  parties  in  the 
State." 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   85 

which  no  political  position  can  be  understood  and  no  social 
evil  remedied."  This  latter  was  an  especial  province  of 
Disraeli.  Carlyle  also,  as  a  social  regenerator  appealing  to 
higher  sanctions  than  the  "  useful,"  was  able  to  address  the 
newly  awakened  "  popular  intelligence." 

Here  again  Disraeli  is  in  curious  accord  with  Carlyle,  the 
diiTerence  between  them  being  that  Disraeli,  a  doer  as  well 
as  a  seer,  discerned  in  the  traditional  "  orders  "  or  "  estates  " 
of  the  realm  real  curatives  of  a  sick  body  politic.  Both  pro- 
tested against  a  state  based  on  statistics  and  a  progress  that 
was  arithmetical.  Both  were  quick  to  discriminate,  under  the 
surface  of  parties,  between  the  influences  which  made  for 
cementing  and  those  which  made  for  dissolving  the  nation. 
Both  saw  in  the  conservatism  and  liberalism  of  the  'thirties, 
on  the  one  side  a  pretence  of  protecting  the  forms  they  en- 
feebled, on  the  other  a  pretext  and  a  sop  for  the  universal 
suffrage  which  their  professions  logically  implied.  Disraeli 
perceived  that  such  a  French  democracy  was  alien  to  England, 
and  meant  eventually  some  sort  of  unenlightened  despotism, 
and  the  aggravation  of  a  government  by  favouritism  and 
through  interference.  He  therefore  resolved  to  reinspire  the 
three  "estates" — and  if  possible  the  Crown — with  reality; 
and  thus,  in  extending  franchise,  to  extend  it  as  the  privilege 
of  an  order,  earned  by  thrift,  education,  and  intelligence, 
while  he  sought  to  found  it  on  a  basis  so  stable  that  leadership 
might  never  sink  into  being  the  sport  of  a  fluid  and  fickle 
ignorance.  Like  Carlyle,  he  rejoiced  that  "  opinion  is  now 
supreme,  and  opinion  speaks  in  print ;  the  representation  of 
the  Press  js  far  more  complete  than  the  representation  of  Parlia- 
ment ; "  he  hailed  the  spread  of  knowledge  among  the  mass 
so  early  as  in  the  Revolutionary  Epick.  But,  unlike  Carlyle, 
he  did  not  deem  this  increasing  power  fatal  to  parliamentary 
institutions  ;  indeed,  he  regarded  Parliament  as  a  body  privi- 
leged to  lead  and  leaven  "  opinion,"  and  one  that  should 
never  abandon  its  proper  functions  of  initiative.  Both  Parlia- 
ment and  the  Press  in  his  eyes  were  vents  for  that  free 
discussion  inseparable  from  political  health,  but  the  one 
ought  to  form  a  school  for  statesmen,  the  other  an  arena  for 
critics.     And    Disraeli   also  held   and   enforced   that  parties 


86  DISRAELI 

should  never  be  particularist,  but  should  rest  on  some  national 
principle  instead  of  on  incoherent  prejudices.  Parties  should 
represent  broad  attitudes  towards  working  institutions.  Only 
thus  can  they  escape  debasement  into  sets  on  the  one  hand, 
and  shams  on  the  other.  If  parties  are  split  up  into  intriguing 
factions,  they  are  solvents  ;  if  they  become  merely  the  masks 
of  disregarded  principles,  they  grow  lifeless  and  hypocritical. 
They  are  at  once  "  humbug  and  humdrum." 

In  his  fine  speech  of  February,  1850,  on  Agricultural 
Distress  (a  distress  greatly  due  to  the  unrestricted  competi- 
tion of  English  land  with  foreign  acres,^  and  only  to  be  met 
by  what  he  then  proposed  and  long  afterwards  carried — the 
relief  of  its  peculiar  burdens),  Disraeli  dwelt  on  the  sad  fact 
that  the  labourers  of  the  land  made  no  appeal  to  Parliament. 
"Why,  what  is  that,"  he  urged,  "but  a  want  of  confidence  in 
the  institutions  of  the  country  ?  "  Cobden,  who  definitely  and 
avowedly  sought  the  predominance  of  one  portion  alone, 
of  middle-class  individual  interest,  gave  an  ironical  cheer. 
Carlyle  had  already  published  his  philippic  against  Parliament. 
But  Disraeli — and  with  justice — continued — 

"...  The  honourable  gentleman  cheers  as  if  I  sanctioned 
such  doctrines  :  I  have  never  sanctioned  the  expression  of 
such  feelings  ;  I  never  used  language  elsewhere  which  I  have 
not  been  ready  to  repeat  in  this  House.  I  never  said  one  thing 
in  one  place,  and  another  in  another.  I  have  confidence  in 
the  justice  and  wisdom  of  the  House  of  Commons,  although 
I  sit  with  the  minority  ;  I  have  expressed  that  confidence  in 
other  places.  ...  I  have  expressed  the  conviction  that  I 
earnestly  entertain,  that  this  House,  instead  of  being  an 
assembly  with  a  deaf  ear  and  a  callous  heart  to  the  sufferings 
of  the  agricultural  body,  would,  on  the  contrary,  be  found  to 
be  an  assembly  prompt  to  express  sympathy,  prompt  to 
repair,  if  it  might  be,  even  the  injury,  necessary  in  the  main 
as   they  might  think  it,  which  they  had   entailed    on    the 

1  The  great  depression  of  1847-51  was  not  wholly  caused  by  the 
fiscal  change.  It  was  largely  due  to  reaction  after  the  railway  mania,  as 
Disraeli  pointed  out  in  a  speech  of  1879.  It  was  followed  by  a  rise  in 
wages,  due,  not  to  Free  Trade,  but  to  the  large  imports  of  newly  discovered 
gold  ;  and  by  an  increased  purchasing  power  which  was  due  to  Peel's 
large  abatements  of  the  tariff. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   ^7 

agricultural  classes  of  the  country.  ...  I  have  that  confidence 
in  the  good  sense  of  the  English  people  that  .  .  .  they  will 
deem  we  are  only  doing  our  duty,  we  are  only  consulting  their 
interests  in  taking  every  opportunity  to  alleviate  their  burdens, 
in  trying  to  devise  remedies  for  their  burdens  ;  and,  if  we 
cannot  accomplish  immediately  any  great  financial  result,  at 
least  achieving  this  great  political  purpose — that  we  may  teach 
them  not  to  despair  of  the  institutions  of  their  country." 

This  purpose  he  had  sought  to  accomplish  two  years 
before,  when,  in  1848,  he  proved  by  a  speech  which,  it  is  said, 
won  him  the  eventual  leadership  of  his  party,  that  the  break- 
down which  Carlyle  was  at  that  time  preparing  to  denounce, 
was  due  to  an  incapable  ministry,  and  not  to  an  effete  Parlia- 
ment. He  always  held  Parliament  to  be  neither  a  municipal 
vestry  nor  a  chamber  of  commerce,  but  a  national  temple  of 
embodied  opinion  ;  nor  can  the  wisdom  of  his  view  in  those 
dark  and  despondent  times  be  better  tested  than  by  com- 
paring, in  the  light  of  what  has  since  occurred,  than  by  con- 
trasting Carlyle's  fulminations  in  this  regard  with  Disraeli's 
discernment. 

"...  There  is  a  phenomenon,"  says  Carlyle,  in  his 
"Chartism,"  "which  one  might  call  Paralytic  Radicalism  in 
these  days,  which  gauges  with  statistic  measuring-reed, 
sounds  with  Philosophic  Politico-Economic  plummet,  the 
deep,  dark  sea  of  trouble,  and,  having  taught  us  rightly  what 
an  infinite  sea  of  trouble  it  is,  sums  up  with  the  practical 
inference  and  use  of  consolation.  That  nothing  whatever  in  it 
can  be  done  by  man,  who  has  simply  to  sit  still  and  look 
wistfully  to  '  Time  and  General  Laws ; '  and  thereupon, 
without  so  much  as  recommending  suicide,  coldly  takes  its 
leave  of  us.  .  .  ." 

Disraeli,  on  the  other  hand — 

" .  .  .  'In  this  country,'  said  '  Sidonia,'  ' since  the  peace, 
there  has  been  an  attempt  to  advocate  a  reconstruction  of 
society  on  a  purely  rational  basis.  The  principle  of  Utility 
has  been  powerfully  developed.  I  speak  not  with  lightness 
of  the  labours  of  the  disciples  of  that  school.  I  bow  to 
intellect  in  every  form ;  and  we  should  be  grateful  to  any 
school  of  philosophers,  even  if  we  disagree  with  them.  .  .  . 


88  DISRAELI 

There  has  been  an  attempt  to  reconstruct  society  on  a  basis 
of  material  motives  and  calculations.  It  has  failed.  It  must 
ultimately  have  failed  under  any  circumstances  ;  its  failure  in 
an  ancient  and  densely  peopled  kingdom  was  inevitable. 
How  limited  is  human  reason,  the  profoundest  inquirers  arc 
most  conscious.  We  are  not  indebted  to  the  reason  of  man 
for  any  of  the  great  achievements  which  are  the  landmarks  of 
human  action  and  human  progress.  It  was  not  Reason  that 
besieged  Troy  ;  it  was  not  Reason  that  sent  forth  the  Saracen 
from  the  desert  to  conquer  the  world,  that  inspired  the 
crusades,  that  instituted  the  monastic  order  ;  it  was  not 
Reason  that  produced  the  Jesuits  ;  above  all,  it  was  not 
Reason  that  created  the  French  Revolution.  .  .  ." 

I  may  compare  with  this  the  light  episode  of  the  travelling 
Utilitarian  in  the  much  earlier  Young  Duke— 

".  .  .  'I  think  it  is  not  very  difficult  to  demonstrate  the 
use  of  an  aristocracy,'  ^  mildly  observed  the  Duke. 

"  '  Pooh !  nonsense,  sir !  I  know  what  you  are  going  to 
say,  but  we  have  got  beyond  all  that.  Have  you  read  this, 
sir  ?  This  article  on  the  aristocracy  in  The  Scrciu  and  Lever 
Revieiv  ? ' 

"  '  I  have  not,  sir.' 

"  *  Then  I  advise  you  to  make  yourself  master  of  it,  and 
you  will  talk  no  more  of  the  aristocracy.  A  few  more 
articles  like  this,  and  a  few  more  noblemen  like  the  man  who 
has  got  this  park,  and  people  will  open  their  eyes  at  last.' 

"  '  I  should  think,'  said  his  Grace,  '  that  the  follies  of  the 
man  who  has  got  this  park  have  been  productive  of  evil  only 
to  himself.  In  fact,  sir,  according  to  your  own  system,  a 
prodigal  nobleman  seems  to  be  a  very  desirable  member  of 
the  commonwealth,  and  a  complete  leveller.' 

*• '  We  shall  get  rid  of  them  all  soon,  sir.  .  .  .' 

"  '  I  have  heard  that  he  is  very  young,  sir,'  remarked  the 
widow. 

1  It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  Disraeli  sometimes  employs  the 
words  "  aristocracy  "  and  "democracy"  to  mean  the  order  of  aristocrats 
and  democrats,  sometimes  to  mean  the  systems  of  exclusion  and  inclusion, 
sometimes  to  mean  the  government  by  the  best  and  by  the  miscellaneous, 
and  oftener  as  indicating  elements  in  our  Constitution. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   89 

'"Ah,  youth  is  a  very  trying  time!  Let  us  hope  the 
best.     He  may  turn  out  well  yet,  poor  soul ! ' 

" '  I  hope  not.  Don't  talk  to  me  of  poor  souls.  There  is 
a  poor  soul,'  said  the  Utilitarian,  pointing  to  an  old  man 
breaking  stones  on  the  highway.  '  That  is  what  I  call  a  poor 
soul,  not  a  young  prodigal.  .  .  .'" 

No  one  who  has  followed  the  labour  movement  in  Eng- 
land, or  the  social-democrat  organisations  in  Germany  and 
France,  can  fail  to  recognise  the  immense  part  that  per- 
sonality, imagination,  and  desire  of  power  plays  in  them,  and 
how  completely,  in  their  instance,  utilitarianism  has  broken 
down.  Utilitarianism,  of  course,  ignores  the  moral  and 
imaginative  aspects.  It  mistakes  the  moon  for  a  cream- 
cheese.  It  ignores  personal  influence.  Above  all,  it  con- 
founds happiness  with  prosperity.  "  Charcoal,"  exclaims 
Ruskin  (here  in  complete  accord  with  Disraeli),  "may  be 
cheap  among  your  roof-timbers  after  a  fire,  and  bricks  may 
be  cheap  in  your  streets  after  an  earthquake  ;  but  fire  and 
earthquake  may  not  therefore  be  national  benefits."  Even  in 
a  concern  purely  commercial,  reserve  must  be  weighed 
against  dividends. 

Again,  as  regards  this  very  Reform  Bill  of  1832,  and  the 
stagnant  formulae  of  its  pioneer,  I  will  again  invoke  Carlyle — 

"...  An  ultra-radical,  not  seemingly  of  the  Benthamee 
species,  is  forced  to  exclaim,  *  The  people  are  at  last  wearied ! 
They  say,  "Why  should  we  be  ruined  in  our  shops,  thrown  out 
of  our  farms,  voting  for  these  men  ?"  Ministerial  majorities 
decline  ;  this  Ministry  has  become  impotent,  had  it  even  the 
will  to  do  good.  They  have  long  called  to  us,  "  We  are  a 
Reform  Ministry;  will  ye  not  support  7is?"  We  have 
supported  them,  borne  them  forward  indignantly  on  our 
shoulders  time  after  time,  fall  after  fall,  when  they  had  been 
hurled  out  into  the  street,  and  lay  prostrate,  helpless,  like 
dead  luggage.  It  is  the  fact  of  a  Reform  Ministry,  not  the 
name  of  one,  that  we  would  support.  .  .  .  The  public  mind 
says  at  last.  Why  all  this  struggle  for  the  nanie  of  a  Reform 
Ministry  ?  Let  the  Tories  be  a  ministry,  if  they  will  ;  let,  at 
least,  some  living  reality  be  a  ministry !'..." 

Let  me  illustrate   Carlyle  by  two  further  passages  from 


90  DISRAELI 

Disraeli.  The  first  concerns  parties  in  1837,  the  second 
concerns  the  withered  and  withering  Toryism  left  to  confront 
the  hollow  conventions  of  the  Reform  Ministry.  He  is  arguing 
that  "the  man  who  enters  public  life  at  this  epoch  has  to 
choose  between  political  infidelity  and  a  destructive  creed." 

"...  The  principle  of  the  exclusive  constitution  of  England 
having  been  conceded  by  the  Acts  of  1827-28-32,  ...  a 
party  has  arisen  in  the  State  who  demand  that  the  principle 
of  political  liberalism  shall  consequently  be  carried  to  its 
extent,  which  it  appears  to  them  is  impossible  without  getting 
rid  of  the  fragments  of  the  old  constitution  that  remain. 
This  is  the  destructive  party — a  party  with  distinct  and 
intelligible  principles.  They  seek  a  specific  for  the  evils  of 
our  social  system  in  the  general  suffrage  of  the  population. 
They  are  resisted  by  another  party  who,  having  given  up 
exclusion,  would  only  embrace  as  much  liberalism  as  is 
necessary  for  the  moment  ;  who,  without  any  embarrassing 
promulgation  of  principles,  wish  to  keep  things  as  they  find 
them  as  well  as  they  can  ;  but,  as  a  party  must  have  the 
semblance  of  principles,  they  take  the  names  of  the  things 
that  they  have  destroyed.  Thus  they  are  devoted  to  the 
prerogatives  of  the  Crown,  although  in  truth  the  Crown  has 
been  stripped  of  every  one  of  its  prerogatives  ;  they  affect  a 
great  veneration  for  the  constitution  in  Church  and  State, 
although  every  one  knows  that  it  no  longer  exists  ;  they  are 
ready  to  stand  or  fall  with  the  independence  of  the  Upper 
House  of  Parliament,  although  in  practice  they  are  perfectly 
well  aware  that,  with  their  sanction,  the  '  Upper  House '  has 
abdicated  its  initiatory  functions,  and  now  serves  only  as  a 
court  of  review  of  the  legislation  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
Whenever  public  opinion,  which  this  party  never  attempts  to 
form,  to  educate,  or  to  lead,  falls  into  some  violent  perplexity, 
passion,  or  caprice,  this  party  yields  without  a  struggle  to  the 
impulse,  and,  when  the  storm  has  passed,  attempts  to  obstruct 
and  obviate  the  logical,  and  ultimately  the  inevitable  results 
of  the  very  measures  they  have  themselves  originated,  or  to 
which  they  have  consented.  This  is  the  Conservative  party. 
I  care  not  whether  men  are  called  Whigs  or  Tories,  Radicals 
or   Chartists,   .  .   .    but  these   two   divisions  comprehend   at 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   91 

present  the  English  nation.  .  .  .  With  regard  to  the  first 
school,  I  for  one  have  no  faith  in  the  remedial  qualities  of  a 
Government  carried  on  by  a  neglected  democracy,  who  for 
three  centuries  have  received  no  education.  What  prospect 
does  it  offer  us  of  those  high  principles  of  conduct  with  which 
we  have  fed  our  imagination  and  strengthened  our  will .-'  I 
perceive  none  of  the  elements  of  government  that  should 
secure  the  happiness  of  a  people  and  the  greatness  of  a  realm. 
.  .  .  Many  men  in  this  country  .  .  .  are  reconciled  to  the 
contemplation  of  democracy,  because  they  have  accustomed 
themselves  to  believe  that  it  is  the  only  power  by  which  we 
can  sweep  away  those  sectional  privileges  and  interests  that 
impede  the  intelligence  and  industry  of  tJie  comnmnity,  .  .  .  and 
yet  the  only  way  ...  to  terminate  what,  in  the  language  of 
the  present  day,  is  called  class  legislation,  is  not  to  entrust 
power  to  classes.  You  would  find  a  '  locofoco '  ^  majority  as 
much  addicted  to  class  legislation  as  a  factitious  aristocracy. 
...  In  a  word,  true  zvisdom  lies  in  a  policy  that  zvould  effect 
Its  ends  by  the  influence  of  opinion,  and  yet  by  the  means  of 
existing  forms! ' 

And  the  other — 

"  Mr.  Rigby  began  by  ascribing  everything  to  the  Reform 
Bill,  and  then  referred  to  several  of  his  own  speeches  on 
Schedule  A.  Then  he  told  Coningsby  that  want  of  '  religious 
faith  was  solely  occasioned  by  want  of  churches,  and  want  of 
loyalty  by  George  IV.  having  shut  up  himself  too  much  at 
the  cottage  in  Windsor  Park,  entirely  against  the  advice  of 
Mr.  Rigby.  He  assured  Coningsby  that  the  Church  Com- 
mission was  operating  wonders.  .  .  .  The  great  question  now 
was  their  architecture.  Had  George  IV.  lived,  all  would  have 
been  right.  They  would  have  been  built  on  the  model  of  the 
Buddhist  pagoda.  As  for  loyalty,  if  the  present  king  went 
regularly  to  Ascot  races,  he  had  no  doubt  all  would  go  right. 
Finally,  Mr.  Rigby  impressed  on  Coningsby  to  read  the 
Quarterly  Reviezv  with  great  attention,  and  to  make  him- 
self master  of  Mr.  Wordy's  "  History  of  the  Late  War,"  in 

^  This  phrase  is  American,  and  refers  to  the  democrat  extremists, 
conduct  in  Tammany  Hall  in  1834.  The  same  year  had  seen  the 
invention  of  the  "  self-lighting  "  cigar. 


92  DISRAELI 

twenty  volumes — a  capital  work  which  proves  that  Providence 
was  on  the  side  of  the  Tories.'  .  .  ." 

As  regards  the  principles  and  conduct  of  the  Reform 
Ministers  themselves,  years  before  he  entered  Parliament,  in 
that  brilliant  series  of  speeches  on  the  hustings  of  High 
Wycombe  and  Taunton,  which  preluded  so  many  of  his  ideas, 
he  denounced  the  incompleteness  of  the  measure  and  the  in- 
adequacy of  the  men.     In  1832  he  said — 

"...  If,  instead  of  filling  the  humble  position  of  a  private 
individual,  I  held  a  post  near  the  person  of  my  King,  I  should 
have  said  to  my  sovereign,  '  Oppose  all  change,  or  allow  that 
change  which  will  be  full,  satisfactory,  and  final.'  In  the 
change  produced  by  the  professing  party  now  in  power,  there 
are  omissions  of  immense  importance.  These  points  they 
promised  ;  these  points  they  have  not  given  you  ;  and  now, 
after  all  their  protestations,  they  turn  round  and  ask  how  the 
people  can  have  the  audacity  to  demand  them."  ^ 

In  1834  he  denounced  "the  Whig  system  of  centralisa- 
tion," and  their  organised  attempt  to  "  overpower  "  the  House 
of  Lords  and  to  despotise  the  House  of  Commons,  while  of 
their  subsequent  disorganisation  from  within,  because  of  the 
failure  of  concerted  opposition  from  without,  he  gave  that 
surpassing  simile  of  Ducrow's  Circus.  In  1835  he  pursued 
the  subject  of  constitutional  opposition,  and  he  expressed  his 
dread,  as  he  did  in  1881,  that  if  the  Whigs  remained  "our 
masters  for  life,  the  dismemberment  of  the  Empire "  might 
follow.  And  all  this  in  the  teeth  of  what  was  then  considered 
a  system    installed   for  fifty  years,  and   which  would  have 

'  At  that  time,  under  the  full  spell  of  the  analogy  which  the  age  of 
Walpole  presented,  he  believed  that  triennial  parliaments  and  the 
ballot  might  redress  the  balance  of  constitutional  power  and  foil  the 
ohgarchs  who  had  baffled  the  people  by  espousing  a  popular  cry.  In 
1852,  however,  he  said,  with  regard  to  those  proposals  brought  forward  by 
Mr.  Hume  :  "  .  .  .  He  did  not  object  to  them,  but  he  saw  no  necessity  to 
adopt  them.  His  objections  to  the  latter  were  distinctly  founded  on  the 
limits  of  the  franchise  which  the  settlement  of  1832  had  not  sufficiently 
extended,  but  ...  if  they  had  universal  suffrage  they  came  to  a  new 
constitution — a  constitution  commonly  called  the  '  Sovereignty  of  the 
People,'  but  that  is  not  the  Constitution  of  England  ;  for,  wisely  modified 
as  that  monarchy  may  be,  the  Constitution  of  England  is  the  sovereignty 
of  Queen  Victoria." 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  93 

promised  him  a  personal  triumph  had  he  appeared  then  to 
have  chosen  to  have  endorsed  it. 

But  the  views  he  always  retained  as  to  the  first  principles 
of  representation  are  best  heard  in  a  passage  from  Cojiingsby. 

"...  In  the  protracted  discussions  to  which  this  celebrated 
measure  gave  rise,  nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  the  per- 
plexities into  which  the  speakers  on  both  sides  are  thrown 
when  they  touch  upon  the  nature  of  the  representative  prin- 
ciple. On  the  one  hand,  it  was  maintained  that  under  the 
old  system  the  people  were  virtually  represented,  while,  on 
the  other,  it  was  triumphantly  urged  that,  if  the  principle 
was  conceded,  the  people  should  not  be  virtually,  but  actually 
represented.  But  who  are  the  people }  And  where  are  you 
to  draw  a  line  ?  And  why  should  there  be  any }  It  was 
urged  that  a  contribution  to  the  taxes  was  the  constitutional 
qualification  for  the  suffrage."  Here  is  repeated  what  he  had 
urged  in  the  'thirties,  and  was  to  reiterate  in  the  'fifties,  that 
indirect  taxation  is  as  much  taxation  as  direct;  that  "the 
beggar  who  chews  his  quid  as  he  sweeps  a  crossing  is  con- 
tributing to  the  imposts  ;  ...  he  is  one  of  the  people,  and  he 
yields  his  quota  to  the  public  burthens."  The  logical  inference 
of  such  a  qualification  must  be  to  convert  the  suffrage  from 
being  a  privilege  into  being  a  right.  Manhood  suffrage,  in 
common  with  all  privilege  unearned,  is  usually  prized  by  none, 
and  even  disregarded  by  most. 

"  Amid  these  conflicting  statements,"  he  continues,  "  it  is 
singular  that  no  member  of  either  House  should  have 
recurred  to  the  original  character  of  these  popular  assemblies 
which  have  always  prevailed  among  the  northern  nations.  .  .  . 
When  the  crowned  northman  consulted  on  the  welfare  of  his 
kingdom,  he  assembled  the  estates  of  his  realm.  Now,  an 
estate  is  a  class  of  the  nation  invested  with  political  rights. 
Then  appeared  the  estate  of  the  clergy,  of  the  barons,  of 
other  classes.  In  the  Scandinavian  kingdoms  to  this  day 
the  estate  of  the  peasants  sends  its  representatives  to  the  Diet. 
In  England,  under  the  Normans,  the  Church  and  the  Baronage 
were  convoked  together  with  the  estate  of  the  Community, 
a  term  which  then  probably  described  the  inferior  holders 
of  land   whose    tenure    was    not   immediate    of  the   Crown. 


94  DISRAELI 

The  Third  Estate  was  so  numerous  that  convenience  sug- 
gested its  appearance  by  representation,  while  the  others, 
more  limited,  appeared,  and  still  appear,  personally.  The 
Third  Estate  was  reconstructed  as  circumstances  developed 
themselves.  It  was  a  reform  of  Parliament  when  the  towns 
were  summoned.  In  treating  the  House  of  the  Third  Estate 
as  the  House  of  the  People,  and  not  as  the  House  of  a 
privileged  class,  the  Ministry  and  Parliament  of  183 1 
virtually  conceded  the  principle  of  universal  suffrage.  In 
this  point  of  view,  the  ten-pound  franchise  was  an  arbitrary, 
irrational,  impolitic  qualification.  It  had  indeed  the  merit  of 
simplicity,  and  so  had  the  constitution  of  Abbe  Si^yes.  But 
its  immediate  and  inevitable  result  was  Chartism. 

"  But  if  the  Ministry  and  Parliament  of  183 1  had  announced 
that  the  time  had  arrived  when  the  Third  Estate  should  be 
enlarged  and  reconstructed,  they  would  have  occupied  an 
intelligible  position  ;  and  if,  instead  of  simplicity  of  elements 
in  its  reconstruction,  they  had  sought,  on  the  contrary,  vary- 
ing and  various  materials  which  would  have  neutralised  the 
painful  predominance  of  any  particular  interest  in  the  new 
scheme,  and  prevented  those  banded  jealousies  which  have 
been  its  consequence,  the  nation  would  have  found  itself  in  a 
secure  position.  Another  class,  not  less  numerous  than  the 
existing  one,  and  invested  with  privileges  not  less  important, 
would  have  been  added  to  the  public  estates  of  the  realm,  and 
the  bewildering  phrase,  '  the  People,'  would  have  remained 
what  it  really  is,  a  term  of  natural  philosophy,  and  not  of 
political  science." 

The  quality,  then,  of  excellence,  instead  of  the  majorities 
of  multitude,  the  variety  of  every  approved  influence,  and  not 
the  undue  weight  of  any  overwhelming  interest— these  formed 
for  him  the  true  bases  of  representation.  He  was  ever  for 
levelling  up  instead  of  down  ;  and,  as  we  shall  see,  he  was 
directly  opposed  to  Mr.  Hume's  fallacy  (still  rampant)  that 
by  our  traditions  representation  depends  only  on  taxation. 

These  ideas  animated  him  throughout,  and  he  achieved 
them  in  1867,  not,  though  it  has  been  insinuated,  by  filch- 
ing the  proposals  of  his  predecessors,  but   on  the  opposed 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION    95 

principles  which  he  continued  to  advocate  from  the  'thirties 
to  the 'sixties.  In  1835,  two  years  before  he  entered  Parlia- 
ment, he  expressed  the  same  convictions  in  his  Spirit  of 
Whiggisvi.  He  showed  that  the  two  Houses  were  the 
"  House  of  the  Nation,"  not  the  "  House  of  the  People,"  but 
that  both  alike  represent  the  "  Nation."  He  proceeded  to 
prove  by  powerful  illustration  that,  under  whatever  assumed 
form,  political  power  will  follow  the  distribution  of  property. 
He  emphasised  the  "  passion  for  industry  "  as  an  instrument 
of  wealth  as  an  English  characteristic  hostile  to  any  future 
revolution  in  the  distribution  of  property.  He  proved  that  in 
England  revolution  is  ever  a  struggle  for  privilege,  in  Europe 
one  against  it  ;  and  he  concluded,  therefore,  that  "...  If  a 
new  class  rises  in  the  State,  it  becomes  uneasy  to  take  its 
place  in  the  natural  aristocracy  of  the  land.  .  .  .  The  Whigs  i?i 
the  present  day  have  risen  on  the  power  of  the  manufacturing 
ifiterest.  To  secure  themselves  in  their  posts,  the  Whigs  have 
given  the  new  interest  an  imdue  preponderance.  But  the  new 
interest  has  obtained  its  object  and  is  content.  .  .  .  The 
manufacturer  begins  to  lack  in  movement.  Under  Walpole  the 
Whigs  played  the  same  game  with  the  commercial  interest. 
A  century  has  passed,  and  the  commercial  interests  are  all  as 
devoted  to  the  Constitution  as  the  manufacturers  soon  will 
be.  .  .  .  The  consequence  of  our  wealth  is  an  aristocratic 
constitution,  founded  on  an  equality  of  civil  rights.  And 
who  can  deny  that  an  aristocratic  constitution  resting  on 
such  a  basis,  where  the  legislative  and  even  the  executive 
office  may  be  obtained  by  every  subject  of  the  realm,  is  in 
fact  a  noble  democracy  ?  " 

These  are  no  dry  theories,  but  surely  a  true  version  of 
growing  facts.  Our  Constitution  is  that  of  a  natural 
aristocracy  founded  on  popular  privilege  depending  on  the 
mutual  exercise  of  duties.  This  free  aristocracy  distributes 
its  power  through  the  estates  of  the  realm,  and  these  orders 
should  accord  with  the  institutions  to  which  they  have  given 
rise  ;  for,  as  Disraeli  said  in  1852,  they  are  "popular"  without 
being  absolutely  "  democratic."  When  any  one  of  them 
degenerates  into  undue  monopoly,  the  whole  body  must 
suffer ;  and  should  such  a  catastrophe  attain  any  permanence, 


96  DISHAELI 

one  of  the  great  institutions  through  which  English  nationality 
thrives  would  be  shattered  by  the  very  order  to  which  it  cor- 
responds. What  Disraeli  observes  of  the  eventual  reduction 
of  each  new  ascendant  interest  to  aristocratic  influence,  is 
beyond  question.  But  that  influence  must  rest  on  the  due 
performance  of  civil  and  social  responsibilities  which  empower 
it.  Stripped  of  historical  verbiage,  the  "constitution"  harmo- 
nises classes  through  special  privileges  and  reciprocal  duties. 
Of  the  "  middle-middles  "  he  always  spoke  with  respect,  of  the 
"  lower-middles "  with  much  sympathy,  not  least  as  victims 
of  the  income-tax  ;  ^  but  he  ever  doubted  their  governing 
capacity  as  a  class  ;  and  when  Sir  Robert  Peel's  "  monarchy 
of  the  middle  classes  "  came  into  swing,  Disraeli  feared  the 
plutocracy  which  has  happened,  and  which,  when  financial,  is 
more  easily  freed  from  political  responsibility.  The  choice 
offered  between  wealth  omnipotent  and  mob-despotism,  is  a 
choice  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis.  To  obviate  it,  Disraeli 
created  in  1867  an  artisan  franchise,  accorded  as  a  boon  at 
length  earned  by  character  and  intelligence,  and  based  on  the 
rating  principle,  which  affords  a  pledge  of  permanence  ;  at  the 
same  time,  he  strove  to  countervail  the  growing  irresponsibility 
of  wealth  by  relieving  unprotected  land  of  its  burdens  and 
unrepresented  labour  of  its  degradation.  By  the  first,  he 
strove  to  retain  that  sap  of  the  soil  which  underlies  the 
English  character,  the  English  health,  the  English  order, 
through  local  government,  the  English  freedom,  and  the 
English  steadiness  ;  for  (and  this  was  said  in  1852),  "... 
Laws  which,  by  imposing  unequal  taxes,  discourage  that 
investment  {i.e.  capital  invested  in  land,  the  return  for  which 
is  rent)  are,  irrespective  of  their  injustice,  highly  impolitic  ; 
for  nothing  contributes  more  to  the  enduring  prosperity  of  a 
country  than  the  natural  deposit  of  its  surplus  capital  in  the 
improvement  of  its  soil.  ..."  By  the  last,  he  tried  to  redress 
that  social  misery  which  the  measures  of  1846  had  not  re- 
moved and  had  even  increased  :  the  overcrowding  of  the  towns, 
the  displacement  of  labour,  the  subsidising  of  foreign  agriculture 

'  Cf.  speech,  May  18, 187 1.  The  Whigs,  who  in  1S43  called  it  "a  fungus 
of  monopoly,"  worked  and  upheld  it  afterwards  as  "  Liberals."  Now  that 
a  democracy  and  an  Empire  are  being  "  run "  at  the  same  time,  its 
permanence,  for  many  years  questioned,  seems  assured. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   97 

to  the  decultivation  of  English  land,  the  enthronement  of 
Mammon  and  materialism — all  denounced  and  foreseen  by 
him  with  wonderful  prescience.  Very  soon  after  the  repeal 
of  the  Corn  Laws,  discerning,  as  Disraeli  did,  its  drift  of 
denationalising  tendencies,  its  certainty  of  some  social  and 
physical  demoralisation,  as  well  as  the  possible  changes  in 
European  competition  which  might  necessitate  another 
**  commercial  and  social  revolution,"  he  inveighed  against  the 
inference  that  "  we  are  to  be  rescued  from  the  alleged  power 
of  one  class,  only  to  fall  under  the  avowed  dominion  of 
another  ; "  he  believed  that  "  the  monarchy  of  England,  its 
sovereign  power  mitigated  by  the  acknowledged  authority  of 
the  estates  of  the  realm,  has  its  root  in  the  hearts  of  the 
people,  and  is  capable  of  securing  the  happiness  of  the  nation 
and  the  power  of  the  State."  His  peroration — some  of  which 
I  shall  give  in  the  next  chapter — is  a  noble  flight  of  hope. 
He  discerned  at  once  that  the  transformation  scene  of  1846 
would  affect  society  more  than  politics,  and  that  the  next 
extension  of  the  franchise  must  consequently  prove  a  social 
antidote  as  well  as  a  social  sedative. 

In  1839,  refuting  Mr.  Hume's  hobby  already  alluded  to, 
he  showed  that  the  theory  is  nowhere  inherent  in  our  Constitu- 
tion, but  is  a  doctrinaire  supplement  of  alien  origin  ;  that  the 
"  Commons  "  are  a  political  order  invested  with  power  for  the 
performance  of  duties,  just  as  the  Peers  are  a  similar  order, 
but  needing  no  representation  ;  he  re-urged  that  the  House  of 
Commons  was  the  representative  of  the  "  nation  " — an  organic 
whole,  and  not  of  the  "  people" — a  vague  abstraction.  He  had 
even  then  already  pointed  out  that,  historically,  the  delegates 
before  the  Restoration  had  perverted  the  national  traditions  by 
announcing,  more  than  a  century  before  the  French  Revolution, 
the  sovereignty  of  the  "  people."  He  once  more  stoutly  denied 
that  "  taxation  and  representation  went  hand-in-hand  "  accord- 
ing to  our  constitution.  There  was  representation  without 
election,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Church  in  the  Lords,  for  the  Crown 
appointed  the  bishops,  not  the  clergy.  And  as  regards  taxation, 
it  was  indirect,  as  well  as,  unfortunately,  direct.  In  the  same 
year,  protesting  against  Lord  John  Russell's  assumption  of  a 
"monarchy  of  the  middle  classes,"  Disraeli  repeated  that  in 


98  DISRAELI 

this  country  "  the  exercise  of  political  power  must  be  associated 
with  great  public  duties,"  just  as  in  1846,  when  justifying  the 
burdens  on  land  so  long  as  protection  was  accorded  it,  he 
asserted  that  great  honours  demand  great  burdens.  Again,  in 
1848,  Disraeli,  opposing  Mr.  Hume  once  more,  and  protesting 
against  the  finality  of  the  reconstruction  of  1832,  even  before 
Lord  John  Russell  declared  the  question  free  for  both  parties 
in  1853  and  1856 — strongly  condemned  the  radical  scheme 
just  because  it  did  not  "...  enable  the  labouring  classes  to 
take  their  place  in  the  Constitution  of  the  country."  "  If  there 
be  any  mistake,"  he  said,  "  more  striking  than  another  in  the 
settlement  of  1832,  ...  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  that  the  bill  of 
1832  took  the  qualification  oi  property  in  too  hard  and  rigid 
a  sense,  as  the  only  qualification  which  should  exist  in  this 
country  for  the  exercise  of  political  rights."  In  1852,  he  again 
dinned  into  unappreciative  ears  the  necessity  for  a  genuinely 
industrial  franchise,  though  he  was  not  satisfied  that  Lord  John 
Russell's  £^  franchise  would  so  operate.  In  1859  and  1867, 
Disraeli  tried  hard  to  confer  franchises  on  education  and 
thrift,  but  Mr.  Bright  sneered  at  them  as  "fancy  franchises," 
Mr.  Gladstone  scoffed  at  them,  and  in  forwarding  the  great 
measure  of  labour  suffrage  by  the  compelled  co-operation  of 
both  sides  of  the  House,  Disraeli  had  to  surrender  safeguards 
he  never  ceased  to  desire  and  to  regret,  for  they  are  founded 
on  the  State  recognition  of  individual  excellence,  instead  of 
on  the  State  manipulation  of  mere  party  mechanism. 

"  Is  the  possession  of  the  franchise,"  demanded  Disraeli  in 
185 1,  "to  be  a  privilege,  the  privilege  of  industry  and  public 
virtue,  or  is  it  to  be  a  right — the  right  of  every  one,  however 
degraded,  however  indolent,  however  unworthy  .!*...  I  am 
for  the  system  which  maintains  in  this  country  a  large  and 
free  Government,  having  confidence  in  the  energies  and  faculties 
of  man.  Therefore  I  say,  make  the  franchise  a  privilege,  but 
let  it  be  the  privilege  of  t/ie  civic  virtues.  Honourable  gentle- 
men opposite  would  degrade  the  franchise  to  the  man,  instead 
of  raising  the  man  to  the  franchise.  If  you  want  to  have  a  free 
aristocratic  country,  free  because  aristocratic  (I  use  the  word 
*  aristocratic '  in  its  noblest  sense — I  mean  that  aristocratic  free- 
dom which  enables  every  man  to  achieve  the  best  position  in  the 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   99 

State  to  ivliich  his  qualities  entitle  him),  I  know  not  What  we  can 
do  better  than  adhere  to  the  mitigated  monarchy  of  England, 
with  poiver  in  the  Croivn^  order  in  one  estate  of  the  realm,  and 
liberty  in  the  other.  It  is  from  that  happy  combination  that 
we  have  produced  a  state  of  society  that  all  other  nations  look 
upon  with  admiration  and  envy." 

In  all  these  considerations,  the  social  results  of  measures 
and  formulae  were  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind.  What  he  had 
ever  been  resolute  to  secure  was,  as  he  avowed  even  in  1850, 
"the  industrial  franchise,"  which  the  resettlement  of  1832 
had  thrown  to  the  winds. 

Again,  in  1865,  "...  It  appears  to  me,"  urged  Disraeli, 
"  that  the  primary  plan  of  our  ancient  constitution,  so  rich  in 
various  wisdom,  indicates  the  course  that  we  ought  to  pursue 
in  this  matter.  It  secured  our  popular  rights  by  entrusting 
power,  not  to  an  indiscriminate  multitude,  but  to  the  estate,  or 
order,  of  the  Commons.  And  a  wise  government  should  be 
careful  that  the  elements  of  that  estate  should  dear  a  close 
relation  to  the  moral  and  material  development  of  the  country. 
Public  opinion  may  not  yet,  perhaps,  be  ripe  enough  to 
legislate  as  to  the  subject,  but  it  is  sufficiently  interested  in 
the  question  to  ponder  over  it  with  advantage  ;  so  that,  when 
the  time  comes  for  action,  we  may  legislate  in  the  spirit  of  the 
English  Constitution,  zvhich  ivonld  absorb  the  best  of  every 
class,  and  not  fall  into  a  '  democracy '  which  is  the  tyranny  of 
one  class,  and  that  one  the  least  enlightened." 

Long  before  1867,  these  continuous  utterances  culminated 
that  typical  speech  of  1859,  which  mooted  a  comprehensive 
plan  of  enlarged  representation  of  political  power,  yet  un- 
disturbed balance,  and  which  would  have  made  "a  representa- 
tive assembly  that  is  a  mirror  of  the  mind  as  well  as  of  the 
material  interests  of  England." 

I  shall  quote  largely  from  this  unfamiliar  speech.  It 
illustrates  how  far  his  lifelong  principles  applied  to  a  juncture 
before  the  artisans  were  wholly  free  from  agitation  against 
monarchy,  and  those  institutions  which  fence  it  round.  All 
Radical  schemes,  compassing  "  manhood  suffrage,"  all  Whig 
schemes,  merely  delaying  its  day  by  seeking  to  reduce  rental 
or  property  qualifications  to  an  arbitrary  minimum,  were  his 


loo  DISRAELI 

aversion.  Set,  as  he  always  was,  against  including  whatever 
at  the  moment  formed  the  dregs  of  ignorance,  or  the  sediment 
of  an  unentitled  populace,  he  already  favoured  that  "  rating  " 
basis  which  Lord  John  Russell,  always  constitutional,  had 
himself  propounded  in  his  abortive  plan  of  1854,  and  which 
Disraeli  was  to  carry  out  in  1867  as  a  safeguard  of  stability  in 
the  boroughs.  But  in  1859  Lord  Derby  did  not  consider  its 
application  feasible.  Disraeli  had,  therefore,  now  to  forego  it. 
Refusing  to  make  any  reductions  in  the  franchise,  or  yield  an 
inch  to  "  detached  "  democracy,  he  now  proposed  to  attain 
steadiness,  to  vary  the  vote,  and  to  represent  enlightenment 
contrasted  with  mere  property  by  recommending  the  creation 
of  the  "  compound  householder  "  ("  dwellers  in  a  portion  of  any 
house  rented  in  the  aggregate  at  i^20  ")  ^ ;  by  a  new  suffrage 
for  several  small  ownerships  of  property  in  the  funds  and 
savings  banks  ;  and  for  education,  by  enfranchising  graduates, 
ministers  of  religion,  physicians,  barristers,  and  certain  school- 
masters. He  thus  both  forecasted,  so  far  as  was  then  practic- 
able, household  suffrage  as  against  household  democracy  ;  and 
at  the  same  time  sought  to  represent  education  and  ensure 
variety.  By  his  attendant  scheme  of  redistribution,  he  tried 
to  prevent  the  counties  from  being  "  swamped  "  by  the  towns, 
while  at  the  same  time  he  jealously  guarded  the  local  in- 
dependence of  the  boroughs.  His  purpose  was  to  protect 
the  country  districts  against  that  invasion  from  the  cities  of 
agrarian  demagogues  which,  after  his  death,  the  stride  forward 
of  1884  was  to  impel.^ 

But  "finality  is  not  the  word  of  politics."  Progress 
changes  possibilities.  He  had  to  wait  till  the  pear  was  ripe  ; 
till  the  working  man  had  been  really  reconciled  to  monarchy 
and  its  institutions  ;  till  the  ground  had  been  laid  for  a 
generous  scheme  of  national  education,  and  cleared  by  the 
sharply  defined  position  of  parties,  which  at  last  brought  into 
relief  the  issues  between  democracy  as  a  due  element  and  as 
a  domineering  class.  Nor,  if  he  were  now  alive,  would  he  fail 
to  discern  that  the  appeal  of  present  imperialism  to  present 

'  This  preluded  Ihc  "Lodger  franchise,"  of  which,  in  1867,  Disraeli 
said  he  had  been  "  the  father  "  (cf.  p.  108). 
'^  Cf.  p.  log. 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPKESENTATION  lOi 

democracy  will  be  dangerous  if  made  to  it  as  a  deciding  class 
before  it  has  acquired  the  governing  faculty  by  long  appren- 
ticeship. Democracy  as  a  leaven,  democracy  as  the  lump, 
are  obviously  distinct.  The  one  is  "popular  and  national," 
the  other  despotic  or  cosmopolitan.  Our  artisans  are  now 
intensely  national  and  patriotic  ;  but  the  "  submerged  tenth  " 
would  soon  show  themselves  tyrants  over  the  community. 

The  pith  of  his  argument  is  that  mere  numbers  can  never 
form  the  ground  of  representation,  which  should  rest  on 
influence  even  more  than  interest. 

"...  It  appears  to  me  that  those  who  are  called  parlia- 
mentary reformers  may  be  divided  into  two  classes.  The 
first  are  those  .  .  .  who  would  adapt  the  settlement  of  1832 
to  the  England  of  1859,  and  would  act  in  the  spirit  and 
according  to  the  genius  of  the  existing  constitution.  .  .  .  But, 
sir,  it  would  not  be  candid,  and  it  would  be  impolitic  not  to 
acknowledge  that  there  is  another  school  of  reformers  having 
objects  very  different  from  those  which  I  have  named.  The 
new  school,  if  I  may  so  describe  them,  would  avowedly  effect 
a  parliamentary  reform  on  principles  different  from  those  which 
have  hitherto  been  acknowledged  as  forming  the  proper 
foundations  for  this  House.  The  new  school  of  reformers  are 
of  opinion  that  the  chief,  if  not  the  sole,  object  of  representa- 
tion is  to  realise  the  opinion  of  the  numerical  majority  of  the 
country.  Their  standard  is  popiilatiofi,  and  I  admit  that  their 
views  have  been  clearly  and  efficiently  placed  before  the 
country.  Now,  sir,  there  is  no  doubt  that  population  is,  and 
must  always  be,  one  of  the  elements  of  our  representative 
system.  There  is  also  such  a  thing  as  property,  and  that 
too  must  be  considered.  I  am  ready  to  admit  that  the 
new  school  have  not  on  any  occasion  limited  the  elements 
of  their  representative  system  solely  to  population.  They 
have,  with  a  murmur,  admitted  that  property  has  an  equal 
claim  to  consideration  ;  but  then,  they  have  said  that  property 
and  population  go  together.  Well,  sir,  population  and  property 
do  go  together — in  statistics,  but  in  nothing  else.  Population 
and  property  do  not  go  together  in  politics  and  practice.  I 
cannot  agree  with  the  principles  of  the  new  school,  either  if 


I02  DISRAELI 

population  or  property  is  their  sole,  or  if  both  together  con- 
stitute their  double,  standard.     I  think  the  function  of  this 
House  is  something  more  than  merely  to  represent  the  popu- 
lation and  property  of  this  country.     This  House  ought,  in  my 
opinion,  to  represent  all  the  interests  of  the  coimtry.    Now,  those 
interests  are  sometimes  antagonistic,  often  competing,  always 
independent  and  jealous  ;  yet  they  all  demand  a  distinctive 
representation  in  this  House,  and  how  can  that  be  effected, 
under  such  circumstances,  by  the  simple  representation  of  the 
voice  of  the  majority,  or  even  by  the  mere  preponderance  of  pro- 
pei-tyf     If  the  function  of  this  House  is  to  represent  all  the 
interests  of  the  country,  you  must,  of  course,  have  a  represen- 
tation   scattered    over    the    country,    because   interests    are 
necessarily  local.     An  illustration  is  always  worth  two  argu- 
ments ;  permit  me,  therefore,  so  to  explain  my  meaning,  if  it 
requires  explanation.      Let  me   take  the   two  cases  of  the 
metropolis  and  that  of  the  kingdom  of  Scotland.  .  .  .  Their 
populations  are  at  this  time  about  equal.     Their  respective 
wealth  is  very  unequal.  .  .  .  There  is  between  them  the  annual 
difference  in  the  amounts  of  income  upon  which  the  schedules 
are  levied  of  that  between  ;^44,ooo,ooo  and  ;^30,ooo,ooo.    Yet 
who  would  for  a  moment  pretend  that  the  various  classes  and 
interests  of  Scotland  could  be  adequately  represented  by  the 
same  number  of  members  as  represent  the  metropolis  ?     So 
much  for  the  population  test.     Let  us  now  take  the  property 
test.  .  .  .  The  wealth  of  the  city  of  London  is  more  than 
equivalent  to  that  of  twenty-five  English  and  Welsh  counties 
returning  forty  members,  and  of  140  boroughs  returning  232 
members.     The  city  of  London,  the  city  proper,  is  richer  than 
Liverpool,  Manchester,  and  Birmingham  put  together.  ...  It 
is    richer    than    Bristol,    Leeds,    Newcastle,    Sheffield,    Hull, 
Wolverhampton,    Bradford,    Brighton,     Stoke  -  upon  -  Trent, 
Nottingham,  Greenwich,  Preston,  East  Retford,  Sunderland, 
York,  and  Salford  combined — towns  which  return  among  them 
no  less  than  thirty-one  members.    Yet  the  city  of  London  has 
not  asked  me  to  insert  it  in  the  bill,  which  I  am  asking  leave 
to  introduce,  for  thirty-one  members.  ...  So  much  ...  for  the 
property  test,  .  .  .  But  the  truth  is,  that  men  are  sent  to  this 
House  topreresent  the  opinions  of  a  place,  and  7iot  its  power.  .  .  . 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  103 

"  Why,  sir,  the  power  of  the  city  of  London  or  that  of  the 
city  of  Manchester  in  this  House  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the 
honourable  and  respectable  individuals  whom  they  send  here 
to  represent  their  opinions.  I  will  be  bound  to  say  that  there 
is  a  score — nay,  that  there  are  threescore — members  in  this 
House  who  are  as  much  and  more  interested,  perhaps,  in  the 
city  of  Manchester  than  those  who  are  in  this  House  its 
authoritative  and  authentic  representatives.  .  .  .  Look  at  the 
metropolis  itself,  not  speaking  merely  of  the  city  of  London. 
Is  the  influence  of  the  metropolis  in  this  House  to  be  measured 
by  the  sixteen  honourable  members  who  represent  it .?  .  .  . 
...  So  much  for  that  principle  of  population,  or  that  prin- 
ciple of  property,  which  has  been  adopted  by  some  ;  or  that 
principle  of  population  and  property  combined,  which  seems 
to  be  the  more  favourite  form,  .  .  .  There  is  one  remarkable 
circumstance  connected  with  the  new  school,  who  would  build 
up  our  representation  on  the  basis  of  a  numerical  majority, 
and  who  take  population  as  their  standard.  It  is  this — that 
none  of  their  principles  apply  except  in  cases  ivhere population 
is  coficenirated.  The  principle  of  population  is  ...  a  very 
notorious  doctrine  at  the  present  moment,  but  it  is  not  novel. 
...  It  was  the  favourite  argument  of  the  late  Mr.  Hume.  .  .  . 
The  principle,  in  my  opinion,  is  false,  and  would  produce  results 
dangerous  to  the  country  and  fatal  to  the  House  of  Commons. 
But  if  it  be  true,  .  .  .  then  I  say  you  must  arrive  at  conclu- 
sions entirely  different  from  those  which  the  new  school  has 
adopted.  If  population  is  to  be  the  standard,  and  you  choose 
to  disfranchise  small  boroughs  and  small  constituencies,  it  is 
not  to  the  great  towns  you  can,  according  to  your  own  prin- 
ciples, transfer  their  members.  .  .  . 

"  Let  us  now  see  what  will  be  the  consequence  if  the 
population  principle  is  adopted.  You  would  have  a  House, 
generally  speaking,  formed  partly  of  great  landowners  and 
partly  of  great  manufacturers.  I  have  no  doubt  that,  whether  we 
look  to  their  property  or  to  their  character,  there  would  be  no 
country  in  the  world  which  could  rival  in  respectability  such 
an  assembly.  But  would  it  be  a  House  of  Commons  ;  would 
it  represent  the  country  ;  would  it  represent  the  various  in- 
terests of  England  .^     Why,  sir,  after  all,  the  suffrage  and  the 


I04  DISRAELI 

seat  respecting  which  there  is  so  much  controversy  and  con- 
test, are  otily  means  to  an  end.  .  .  .  Yon  want  in  this  Honse 
ei'ery  element  that  obtains  the  respect  and  engages  the  interest 
of  the  conntry.  .  .  .  Yon  ivant  a  body  of  men  representing  the 
vast  variety  of  the  English  character- ;  men  zuho  ivoiild  arbi- 
trate betiveeti  the  claims  oj  those  great  predominant  interests  ; 
who  wonld  temper  the  acerbity  of  their  controversies.  You 
zvant  a  body  of  men  to  represetit  that  considerable  portioti  of  the 
co7nmnnity  who  cannot  be  ranked  tinder  any  of  those  striking 
and  poiverful  heads  to  which  I  have  referred,  biU  who  are  in 
their  aggregate  equally  important  and  valuable,  and  perJiaps  as 
numerous!' 

He  then  adverted  to  the  borough  system  as  an  indirect 
machinery  for  this  purpose,  and  contended  that  those  who 
would  sweep  it  away  must  substitute  "  machinery  as  effec- 
tive." "...  Now,"  he  continued,  "there  is  one  remarkable 
feature  in  the  agitation  of  the  new  school.  .  .  .  They  offer 
no  substitute  whatever.  ...  I  will  tell  you  what  must  be  the 
natural  consequence  of  such  a  state  of  things.  The  House 
will  lose,  as  a  matter  of  course,  its  hold  on  the  Executive. 
The  House  will  assemble.  It  will  have  men  sent  to  it,  no 
doubt,  of  character  and  wealth  ;  and  having  met  here,  they 
will  be  unable  to  carry  on  the  Executive  of  the  country. 
Why }  Because  the  experiment  has  been  tried  in  every 
country,  and  the  same  result  has  occurred  ;  because  it  is  not 
in  the  power  of  one  or  tivo  classes  to  give  that  variety  of  cha- 
racter and  acquirement  by  which  the  administratioji  of  a  country 
can  be  carried  on.  Well,  then,  what  happens  }  We  fall  back 
on  a  bureaucratic  system}  and  we  should  find  ourselves,  after 
all  our  struggles,  in  the  very  same  position  from  which,  in 
1640,  we  had  to  extricate  ourselves.  Your  administration 
would  be  carried  on  by  a  court  minister,  perhaps  by  a  court 
minion.  It  might  not  be  in  these  times,  but  in  some  future 
time.  The  result  of  such  a  system  would  be  to  create  an 
assembly  where  the  members  of  Parliament,  though  chosen 
by  great  constituencies,  would  be  chosen  from  limited  classes, 
and  perhaps  only  from  one  class  of  the  community.  .  .  ."     His 

'  This  once  more  is  emphasised  by  De  Tocqueville  as  the  essence  of 
centralisation, 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  105 

own  prescription  for  breaking  monotony,  he  described  as 
"  lateral,"  not  "  vertical  "  extension. 

Disraeli  determined  to  settle  this  question  himself,  and 
to  settle  it  by  the  admission  to  the  franchise  of  the  "work- 
ing" classes  of  the  country,  and  not  by  lowering  it  to  the 
"  man  in  the  street,"  or  the  submerged  tenth.  In  these  views 
he  followed  the  Toryism  of  Cobbett  rather  than  the  Radical- 
ism of  Hume.  Discussing  Lord  John  Russell's  proposals  of 
i860  "for  the  representation  of  the  people"  (which,  though 
it  adopted  the  principle  of  rateability,  was,  in  fact,  merely  a 
reduction  of  the  borough  franchise  to  £6,  and  of  the  county 
occupation  to  £\0),  Disraeli  labelled  its  "simplicity"  as  "of 
a  mediaeval  character,  but  without  any  of  the  inspiration  of 
the  feudal  system,  or  any  of  the  genius  of  the  middle  ages." 
It  sought  only  to  scale  down  a  property  qualification.  The 
"  claims  of  intelligence,  acquirement,  and  education "  were 
ignored.  As  regarded  the  borough  franchise,  not  fitness,  but 
number  was  the  principle ;  and  the  numerical  addition 
accrued  to  one  class  only. 

"...  Let  us  now  consider,"  Disraeli  continued,  "whether 
the  particular  class  upon  whom  the  noble  lord  is  about  to 
confer  this  great  political  power,  are  a  class  who  are  incapable, 
or  who  are  unlikely  to  exercise  it.  Are  they  a  class  who  have 
shown  no  inclination  to  combine  }  Are  they  a  class  incap- 
able of  organisation  ?  Quite  the  reverse.  If  we  look  to  the 
history  of  this  country  during  the  present  century,  we  shall 
find  that  the  aristocracy,  or  upper  classes,  have  on  several  very 
startling  occasions  shown  a  great  power  of  organisation.  / 
think  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  zuorking-classes,  especially 
since  the  peace  of  18 15,  have  shoivn  a  remarkable  talent  for 
orga?iisation,  and  a  poiver  of  discipline  and  combination  inferior 
to  none.  The  same,  I  believe,  cannot  be  said  of  the  middle 
classes.  With  the  exception  of  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League, 
I  cannot  recall  at  this  moment  any  great  successful  political 
organisation  of  the  middle  classes  ;  and  living  in  an  age  when 
everything  is  known,  we  now  know  that  that  great  con- 
federation ,  .  .  owed  its  success  to  a  great  and  unforeseen 
calamity,  and  was  on  the  eve  of  dispersion  and  dissolution 
only  a  short  time  before  that  terrible  event  occurred."     The 


io6  DTSEAELl 

upper  and  lower  classes,  he  argued,  were  capable  of  organisa- 
tion and  ideas,  and  the  organisation  of  the  latter  had  been 
secret  as  well  as  disciplined.  Their  intelligence  and  their 
discipline,  then,  were  reasons  for  conferring  the  franchise,  but 
their  traditional  organisation  was  also  a  reason  for  care  in  its 
bestowal,  and  such  discrimination  as  would  not  give  them  a 
predomina7ice.  "...  What  has  been  .  .  .  the  object  of  our 
legislative  labours  for  many  years,  but  to  put  an  end  to  a 
class-legislation  which  was  much  complained  of?  But  you 
are  now  proposing  to  establish  a  class  legislation  of  a  kind 
which  may  well  be  viewed  with  apprehension.  .  .  ." 

Disraeli  discerned  that  what  in  England  is  discontent,  on 
the  Continent  is  disaffection  ;  and  that  revolution  abroad 
corresponds  to  reform  at  home.  Chartism  verged  perilously 
on  the  uprisings  which  endanger  countries  where  government 
is  out  of  touch  with  the  governed.  It  was  a  sign  that  institu- 
tions might  be  on  their  trial,  and  it  demanded  that  those 
institutions  should  resume  reality,  and  win  once  more  the 
affections  of  the  people. 

In  his  resolve  to  spread  the  franchise  in  his  own  manner, 
and  to  neutralise  the  revolutionary  bias  of  agitators  and 
secret  societies,  he  never  lost  sight  of  the  growing  force  of 
public  opinion.  He  himself  was  "  a  gentleman  of  the  press  ; " 
in  the  improved  and  multiplied  newspapers  he  hailed  the 
great  safety-valve  afforded  to  England  by  that  "  publicity  " 
on  which  "  the  great  fabric  of  political  freedom  "  has  been 
reared.  "  Free  intercourse,"  he  exclaimed  in  the  'thirties,  "  is 
the  spirit  of  the  age  I  "  So  late  as  1872,  he  observed,  "...  That 
has  been  the  principle  of  the  whole  of  our  policy.  First  of 
all,  we  made  our  courts  of  law  public,  and  during  the  last 
forty  years  we  have  completely  emancipated  the  periodical 
press  of  England,  which  was  not  literally  free  before,  giving 
it  such  power  that  it  throws  light  upon  the  life  of  almost 
every  class  in  this  country,  and  I  might  say  upon  the  life  of 
almost  every  individual."  In  the  press  (the  light  of  which 
he  perhaps  valued  more  than  the  warmth),  he  welcomed  an 
antidote  against  hidden  and  perilous  associations ;  and 
believed  that  if  the  self-respecting  hand-labourer  received  the 
vote  (as  he  was  entitled  to  do),  he  would  exercise  it  in  the 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  107 

cause  of  freedom,  of  loyalty,  and  of  order.  In  1862,  he 
declared  "  parliamentary  discipline  founded  on  its  only  sure 
basis,  sympathising  public  opinion,"  to  be  the  watchword  of 
his  propaganda.  The  passage  summarises  much  that  I  have 
discussed. 

"...  To  build  up  a  community,  not  upon  Liberal  opinions, 
which  any  man  may  fashion  to  his  fancy,  but  upon  popular 
principles  which  assert  equal  rights,  civil  and  religious  ;  to  up- 
hold the  institutions  of  the  country  because  they  are  the  em- 
bodiment of  the  wants  and  wishes  of  the  nation,  and  protect 
us  alike  from  individual  tyranny  and  popular  outrage  ;  equally 
to  resist  democracy  "  (as  a  form  of  government)  "  and  oligarchy, 
and  to  favour  that  principle  of  free  aristocracy  which  is  the 
only  basis  and  security  for  constitutional  government  ;  .  .  . 
to  favour  popular  education,  because  it  is  the  best  guarantee 
of  public  order  ;  to  defend  local  government,  and  to  be  as 
jealous  of  the  rights  of  the  working  man  as  of  the  prerogative 
of  the  Crown  and  the  privileges  of  the  senate ; — these  were 
once  the  principles  which  regulated  Tory  statesmen  {i.e. 
Bolingbroke  and  Wyndham),  and  I  for  one  have  no  wish 
that  the  Tory  party  should  ever  be  in  power  unless  they 
practise  them." 

In  his  great  speech  during  the  summer  of  the  following  year 
on  "popular  principles"  and  "liberal  opinions,"  as  well  as  on 
the  introduction  of  his  actual  Reform  Bill,  he  gave  expression 
once  more  to  his  distinction  between  "  popular  privileges  "  and 
"  democratic  rights  " — 

".  .  .  If  the  measure  bears  some  reference  to  the  existing 
classes  in  this  country,  why  should  we  conceal  from  ourselves 
that  this  country  is  a  country  of  classes,  and  a  country  of  classes 
it  will  ever  remain  ?  What  we  desire  to  do  is  to  give  every 
one  who  is  worthy  of  it  a  fair  share  in  the  government  of  the 
country  by  means  of  the  elective  franchise  ;  but  at  the  same 
time  we  have  been  equally  anxious  to  maintain  the  character 
of  the  House.  .  .  ." 

As  a  matter  of  tactics,  Disraeli  had  of  design  framed  the 
bill  on  lines  stricter  than  he  was  prepared  to  concede.  He 
desired  that  the  re-settlement  should  be  enduring,  and  he 
deliberately  appealed  to  the  co-operation  of  both  parties  for 


io8  DTST^AELT 

this  purpose.  He  had  "leaped  in  the  dark,"  he  had  "shot 
Niagara."  The  storm  of  obloquy,  desertion,  and  censure  broke 
over  his  head,  but  he  was  unmoved,  because  his  proposals 
were  based  on  principles  long  held  and  patiently  matured. 
Of  the  lodger  franchise  he  had  long  ago  been  the  "  father."  An 
unmitigated  household  franchise  he  refused  as  too  "democra- 
tic." The  "  direct  taxation  "  franchise  and  the  "  dual  vote," 
which  were  intended  as  barriers  for  the  middle  classes,  he 
surrendered.  That  educational  franchise  which  was  bound  up 
with  a  cause  that  from  boyhood  had  been  dear  to  him  ;  that 
"savings-bank"  franchise  which  established  the  right  of 
industrial  thrift  to  representation,  he  was  forced  to  abandon, 
by  the  clamour  of  the  very  party  that  desired  education  with- 
out religion,  and  labour  as  the  mere  instrument  of  capital. 
Looking  back  impartially,  these  derided  "  fancy  franchises  " 
seem  to  me  a  deplorable  loss,  and  even  now  it  would  be  well 
to  recognise  that  the  mind  and  the  character  should  have 
representative  faculties  wholly  apart  from  the  power  of  pro- 
perty. Disraeli  was  forced  to  cast  them  overboard  that  he 
might  preserve  the  vessel  itself  during  the  party  hurricane. 
But  the  essential  qualifications  of  residence  and  rateability  he 
maintained  in  the  teeth  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  under  all  the 
modifications  of  the  principle  which  ensued.  His  mind  was 
fixed  to  steer  between  the  extremes  alike  of  those  who,  under 
the  mask  of  emancipation,  purposed  the  despotism  of  a  single 
class,  and  of  those  who  desired  to  form  the  government  of 
this  country  by  the  caprice  of  an  irresponsible,  an  unintelli- 
gent, and  an  indiscriminate  multitude.  And  he  proved  his 
earnest  sincerity  by  the  appeal  which  closed  his  speech  on  the 
second  reading :  "  Pass  the  bill,  and  then  cha7ige  the  ministry 
if  you  like." 

It  is  not  within  my  province  to  track  the  maze  of  alterca- 
tions which  attended  every  step  of  a  bill  on  which  Disraeli, 
contrary  to  his  wont,  spoke  more  than  three  hundred  times, 
or  to  raise  the  dust  of  controversy  this  year  revived.  But, 
were  it  so,  I  could  prove  how  faithful  Disraeli  remained 
to  the  central  ideas  which  had  animated  him  from  his  youth. 
So  far  from  having  passed  a  "  liberal  "  measure,  he  had  passed 
under  colossal  difficulties,  that  for  which  he  had  long  striven, 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION  109 

and  in  a  manner  which  remedied  the  defects  of  1832  without 
endangering  the  repose  of  the  State.  Indeed,  for  the  second 
time  he  actually  re-created  the  Conservative  party,  and,  to  the 
surprise  of  some  of  his  friends  and  all  his  enemies,  discovered 
in  the  unknown  region  of  the  toilers,  with  whom  he  had  ever 
sympathised,  whom  he  had  always  trusted,  but  whom  the 
Whigs  had  driven  to  revolt,  and  to  whom  the  "cheapest 
market"  Radicals  perpetually  begrudged  protection,  health, 
and  alleviation — discovered,  I  say,  in  these  elements — the 
pawns  of  ignoble  partisanship — his  truest  props  of  order  and 
of  allegiance.  The  measure  and  the  events  of  1884  were  to 
prove  the  rightness  alike  of  his  confidence  and  of  his  caution. 
The  counties  with  a  lowered  franchise  became  a  prey  to 
agitators.  The  towns  remained  staunch  and  steadfast.  And 
this,  though  in  1867  Mr.  Bright  had  sneered  at  Disraeli  for 
having  "lugged"  his  "omnibus"  of  stupid  squires  up  the 
hill  of  democracy. 

In  his  speech  of  1859,  Disraeli  protested  against  any  "pre- 
dominance of  household  democracy."  He  kept  his  word. 
Speaking  at  Edinburgh  in  the  autumn  of  1867,  he  remarked 
on  this  very  topic — 

"...  It  may  be  said  you  have  established  a  democratic 
government  in  England,  because  you  have  established  house- 
hold suffrage,  and  you  have  gone  much  further  than  the 
measures  which  you  previously  opposed.  .  .  .  Now,  I  am  not 
at  all  prepared  to  admit  that  household  suffrage  with  the 
constitutional  conditions  upon  which  we  have  established  it 
— namely,  residence  and  rating — has  established  a  demo- 
cratic government.  But  it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  that 
consideration,  because  we  have  not  established  household 
suffrage  in  England.  There  are,  I  think  I  may  say,  probably 
four  million  houses  in  England.  Under  our  ancient  laws,  and 
under  the  Act  of  Lord  Grey,  about  one  million  of  those 
householders  possessed  the  franchise.  Under  the  Act  of 
1867,  something  more  than  half  a  million  will  be  added  to 
that  million.  Well,  then,  I  want  to  know  if  there  are  four 
million  householders,  and  one  and  a  half  million  in  round 
numbers  possess  the  suffrage,  how  can  'household  suffrage' 
be  said  to  be  established  in  England  .'' " 


no  DISRAELI 

Thus  the  proper  balance  of  power,  which  the  bill  of  1832 
impaired  by  the  exclusion  of  labour  and  the  enfeeblement  of 
aristocracy,  was  restored.  The  people  were  at  last  reconciled 
to  their  leaders.  It  had  been  by  accident  that  the  Whigs 
found  themselves  arbiters  of  the  national  fate  in  1832,  and  it 
may  be  conceded  that,  according  to  their  lights,  they  honestly 
did  their  best.  To  Lord  Grey  and  his  colleagues  Disraeli 
was  always  just  and  respectful.  But  the  breach  then  made 
demanded  the  amends  which  Disraeli  had  meditated  for  years. 
By  cancelling  qualifications  arbitrary  and  irrational,  by  confer- 
ring political  power  only  in  conjunction  with  social  and  political 
responsibility,  by  regarding  society  more  than  the  state,  and 
influence  than  interest,  by  persistent  courage  and  purpose,  this 
great  project  succeeded  and  has  endured.  The  day  may  come 
in  the  process  of  generations  when,  as  Disraeli  has  imagined 
elsewhere,  industry  may  cease  to  repose  upon  industrialism 
alone,  and  representation  may  also  cease  to  seem  the  sole 
machinery  of  politics  ;  when  enlightenment  and  public  opinion 
may  form  a  real  national  conscience  ;  and  when  leadership 
may  prove  itself  independent  of  artificial  forms.  But  till  that 
day  arrives,  it  will  be  madness  in  England  to  give  each  citizen, 
irrespective  of  any  qualification  but  existence,  a  voice  in 
the  Legislature,  or  entrust  them  with  the  sway  of  an 
empire.  His  avowed  aim  and  his  accomplished  triumph 
were  "to  restore  those  rights  which  were  lost  in  1832  to  the 
labouring  class  of  the  country,"  and  to  "  bring  back  again  that 
fair  partition  of  political  power  which  the  old  Constitution  of 
the  country  recognised."  A  year  after  its  enactment,  in  his 
great  Irish  speech  he  spoke  of  it  as  "  a  most  beneficent  and 
noble  Act,"  and  he  added  that  he  looked  "  with  no  apprehen- 
sion whatever  to  the  appeal  that  will  be  made  to  the  people 
under  the  provisions  of  the  Act.  I  believe  you  will  have  a 
Parliament  full  of  patriotic  and  national  sentiment,  whose 
decisions  will  add  spirit  to  the  community  and  strength  to  the 
State."  "  Time,"  which  was  "  Contarini  Fleming's  "  record  in 
the  book  of  "Adam  Besso,"  has  proved  the  fulness  of  his 
foresight  and  the  skill  of  the  adjustment. 

The  mistrust  of  this  great  measure  at  the  time,  even  by 
men  of  intelligence,  may  be  justified  by  the  objection  that 


DEMOCRACY  AND  REPRESENTATION   1 1 1 

in  the  distant  future  Labour  may  resume  its  war  against 
authority  in  its  coming  conflict  with  Capital ;  and  that  a  rigid 
conservatism  of  defiance  is  preferable  to  an  adaptive  conser- 
vatism of  development.  But  whenever  that  hour  strikes,  it 
will  be  seen  that  Disraeli's  statesmanship  has  prevented  the 
revolution  which  a  conservatism  of  defiance  must  have  pre- 
pared and  entailed.  Disraeli  will  have  helped  to  preserve  the 
English  immunity  from  the  violences  which  mark  such 
upheavals  elsewhere.  He  sought  with  all  his  might  to 
quicken  Capital  into  duty,  and  to  hearten  Labour  by  confer- 
ring privilege,  not  as  a  sop,  but  as  a  reward,  while,  by 
alleviating  misery  through  creative  enactments,  he  has  con- 
servatised  Labour  and  kept  it  in  touch  with  the  national 
scheme. 

It  may  not,  perhaps,  have  been  wholly  realised  how 
harmonious  Disraeli's  utterances  respecting  the  progressive 
principles  of  representation  in  England  have  been.  That  is 
my  excuse  for  treating  the  subject  with  insistence,  though  by 
no  means  with  completeness.  To  have  done  so  would  risk 
the  exhaustion  of  the  reader  as  well  as  of  the  subject. 
Disraeli  prevented  the  raid  of  alien  and  disruptive  democracy 
from  making  England  a  home.  Out  of  the  common  he 
extracted  the  choice.  He  revived  the  democracy  long 
inherent  in  the  English  Constitution  ;  he  naturalised  the 
democratic  idea  on  the  soil  of  tradition  and  order ;  and 
thereby  he  cemented  the  solidarity  of  the  State  and  the 
welfare  of  the  nation.  He  proved  that  "  progress  "  is  not 
synonymous  with  push,  and  that  in  going  forward  it  is  wise 
also  to  look  back,  lest  the  goal  should  be  a  precipice.  Still, 
long  as  this  disquisition  has  necessarily  been,  I  may  hope 
that  it  is  not  dull,  since,  in  Mrs.  Malaprop's  aphorism,  "  I 
don't  think  there  is  a  superstitious  article  in  it." 


CHAPTER  III 

LABOUR—"  YOUNG  ENGLAND  "— "  FREE 
TRADE" 

IN  Vivian  Grey,  Disraeli  mocks  at  the  attitude  of  the  early 
political  economists  towards  Labour  in  the  person  of 
"Mr.  Toad,"  who  defined  it  as  "that  exertion  of  mind  or 
body  which  is  not  the  involuntary  effect  of  the  influence 
of  natural  sensations."  In  the  second  of  his  long  series  of 
election  addresses,  he  promised  to  "  withhold  "  his  support 
from  every  ministry  which  will  not  originate  some  great 
measure  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  lower  orders,  .  .  . 
to  liberate  our  shackled  industry.  .  .  ."  The  subject  is  closely 
allied  to  much  already  surveyed.  Here,  however,  I  shall  for 
the  most  part  leave  politics  alone,  and  confine  myself  mainly 
to  the  social  aspects  of  the  question,  for  from  this  standpoint 
he  himself  approached  it.  On  Mr.  Villiers'  resolutions  in 
1852,  he  distinctly  stated  that  he  and  his  friends  had  opposed 
the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  on  the  main  ground  that  it 
would  "  prove  injurious  to  the  interests  of  Labour  ; "  on  the 
subsidiary  ground  that  it  would  injure  "  considerable  interests 
in  the  country."  He  had,  two  years  before,  urged  that  it 
"was  a  question  of  labour,  or  it  was  nothing."  Even  in  the 
Revolutionary  Epick,  fifteen  years  earlier,  he  had  sung,  "  The 
many  labour,  and  the  few  enjoy." 

The  extracts  given  in  the  preceding  chapter  from  Disraeli's 
speech  on  Mr.  Hume's  motion  in  1848,  illustrate  the  central 
ideas  which  he  enforced  with  singular  pertinacity  in  all  his 
published  works  and  public  utterances. 

They  are  mainly  these. 

It  was  an  age  of  emancipation,  and  Peel  liberated  com- 
merce.    In  so  doing  he  disjointed  Labour.      His  two  great 


LABOUR  113 

reforms — that   of   the    Tariff  and   that  of  the   Corn    Laws 
— designed     as     inter-remedial,    were     certainly    calculated 
to    disturb    and    dislocate   Labour,    the    one   by    unloosing 
the    full    forces    of    straining    competition  ;    the    other    by 
revolutionising    the    centres    of    industry,    by    transferring 
population   from   the  country  to  the  city,  by  impairing  the 
landed  interests,  both  high  and  low,  by  shifting  the  distribu- 
tion of  toil.     At  the  very  moment  before  his  relaxation  of 
the  Corn  Laws,   Peel,  conscious  that  he  would  disorganise 
Labour,^  had  been  unconsciously  converted  to  the  "right  to 
physical  happiness  "  system  of  Manchester — the  dryest  em- 
bodiment of  the  theory  of  the  French  "physical"  equalitarians, 
on  which  I  touched  in  my  last  chapter.     His  economics  of 
"  cheapness,""  the  results  of  which  he  feared  in  relation  to  the 
distribution  of  employment,  thus  became  associated  with  a 
principle  that,  as  I  have  shown,  demands  "unlimited  employ- 
ment  of  labour."     He   freed   Commerce,   but    he   unsettled 
Labour,  already  rebelling  against  the  harsh  workings  of  the 
new  Poor  Laws.     Disraeli  asked  himself  if  reduced  tariffs 
would  augment  purchasing  power,  if  dethroned  land  would  be 
succeeded  by  any  novel  power  for  alleviating  the  Labour  thus 
unhinged.      And,    further,    he    asked    whether    the    middle 
class  of  1846  would  not  reap  the  benefit  without  bearing  the 
burden,  just  as  it  had  done  in  the  Reform  of  1832.     What 
would  be  the  effect  of  discontent  on  the  institutions  of  the 
country  ?     The  two  great  problems  during  the  whole  decade 
of   1830-40,   when   there   had    occurred   a   real   renaissance, 
an  awakening,  had  been  Democracy  and  the  Church.     Was 
Democracy  to  be  detached  from   the   order  and  orders  of 
the  State  ?  was  it  to  be  an  anti-national  solvent  ?     And  was 
the  Church  to  realise  its  mission  as  a  society  of  believers 
instead  of  being  perverted  into  a  library  of  assent }      So  far 
Chartism  and  Apostasy  had  been  the   answers.     Were  Sir 
Robert  Peel's  arithmetical  measures,  excellent  as  they  were  in 
theory,  any  practical  power  for  regeneration  ?    Chartism's  inner 
causes  had  been  both  the  want  of  employment  and  the  despair 
of  the   employed.     In    1840,   he  proclaimed,  to  his  leader's 
dismay,  his  deep  sympathy,  not  with  Chartism,  "  but  with  the 

^  C/.  Morley's  "  Gladstone,"  vol.  i.  p.  262. 


114  DISRAELI 

Chartists,"  preyed  on  by  ambitious  leaders,  and  victimised  by 
official  indifference.  Throughout  he  regarded  the  whole 
"condition  of  England"  question  from  its  moral  and  social 
standpoints— to  which  economics  should  be  subordinate — as 
touching  Labour  at  one  end  and  Leadership  at  the  other. 

The  claims  of  Labour,  he  says,  are  paramount  as  those  of 
property.  Property  and  Labour  should  be  allies,  and  not 
foes  ;  nay,  Labour  is  itself  the  property  of  the  poor,  out  of 
which  the  property  of  the  rich  is  accumulated.  The  gentle- 
men of  England  should  form  the  advanced  guard  of  Labour  ; 
and,  moreover,  the  master-workmen  themselves  compose  "a 
powerful  aristocracy."  So  long  as  property  was  allied  both  to 
land  and  manufacture,  a  feeling  of  public  spirit  and  public 
duty  in  the  main  characterised  the  large  employers.  But  a 
financial  oligarchy  was  bound  to  arise,  and  has  arisen,  linked 
by  no  visible  ties  to  the  workers,  and  generous  more  by 
gifts  of  "  ransom  "  than  by  personal  participation  ;  a  system 
of  commerce,  too,  without  leaders,  which  now  works  in  groups 
and  merely  on  "  cheapest  market "  principles,  has  sprung  into 
being.  And,  moreover,  the  vast  multiplication  of  machines 
tended  all  along,  and  tends  more  and  more  with  the  huge 
increase  of  intercommunication,  to  exalt  mechanism  into 
life  and  to  degrade  the  labourer  into  a  machine,  himself 
devoid  alike  of  powers  and  of  duties.  Over  and  over  again 
Disraeli  championed,  not  only  the  employment  of  the  people, 
but  variety  in  their  employments.  He  is  never  wearied 
of  scathing  any  system  which  might  enhance  the  grinding 
monotony  of  mechanical  toil.  And  all  this,  while  the  clamour 
for  material  enjoyment  rises  higher  hour  by  hour  ;  and  the 
labourer  is  driven,  in  his  hard  quest  after  squalid  enjoy- 
ments, more  into  the  dark  corners  of  organisations  for 
coercing  a  State  expected  to  pauperise  him,  than  to  philan- 
thropists eager  to  raise  his  condition  by  preaching  over  his 
head,  before  the  roof  that  covers  it  is  decent. 

To  combat  the  latter  evils — among  others — Disraeli 
started  the  "Young  England  Movement,"  and  afterwards 
protested  that  the  old  system  of  trade  reciprocity,  with  tariffs 
as  levers,  had  proved  a  better  guarantee  for  social  happiness 
than  the  retail  wealth  system  of  "free  imports."     At  the  same 


LABOUR  115 

time,  as  I  shall  notice,  after  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws 
had  cheapened  commodities,  he  was  decidedly  of  opinion  that 
to  go  back  would  be  too  violent  an  upheaval,  unless  sanc- 
tioned by  the  deliberate  voice  of  an  instructed  nation  under 
absolutely  new  conditions.  To  forestall  the  dangers  of 
financial  and  commercial  plutocracy,^  he  planned  and  sup- 
ported the  many  alleviative  measures  with  which  his  name 
and  Lord  Shaftesbury's  are  connected,  in  the  teeth,  be  it  re- 
membered, of  the  Radical  and  Utilitarian  opposition  ;  while  he 
proclaimed  in  the  'seventies,  as  he  had  before  proclaimed 
in  the  'fifties,  his  programme  of  Sa7iitas  sanitatiim — Health 
before  Wealth.  He  foresaw,  too,  the  overcrowding  of  huge 
cities  through  the  waste  of  the  soil,  with  all  its  attend- 
ant miseries ;  even  so  early  as  1 846  he  had  urged  that 
"  nothing  is  so  expensive  as  a  vicious  population  ; "  and  he  felt, 
also,  that  if  life  without  toil  is  "  a  sorry  sort  of  lot,"  toil 
without  life  is  an  infinitely  worse  one.  Above  all,  he  looked 
in  this  matter,  as  throughout,  far  more  to  the  regeneration  of 
society  than  to  State  interference,  so  easily  evaded  and  so 
devitalising.  And  he  lamented  the  colossal  enlargement  of 
the  towns,  which  isolates  while  it  excites. 

"...  In  cities,"  he  protests  in  Sybil,  "  that  condition  is 
aggravated.  A  density  of  population  implies  a  severer 
struggle  for  existence,  and  a  consequent  repulsion  of  elements 
brought  into  too  close  contact.  In  great  cities  men  are 
brought  together  by  the  desire  of  gain.  They  are  not  in  a 
state  of  co-operation,  but  of  isolation,  as  to  the  making  of 
fortunes  ;  and  for  all  the  rest,  they  are  careless  of  neighbours. 
Christianity  teaches  us  to  love  our  neighbours  as  ourself; 
modern  society  acknowledges  no  neighbour."  But  he 
descried  already  a  rift  in  the  gloom.  "Society,  still  in  its 
infancy,  is  beginning  to  feel  its  way." 

The  late  'thirties  and  early  'forties,  with  their  agita- 
tions against  middle-class  apathy  and  aristocratic  neglect, 
witnessed  to  the  reality  of  the  disease  which  was  known  as 
the  "  condition-of-England  question."  Many  of  the  nobles 
were    not    noble;    never    had   been  "so    many  gentlemen, 

^  C/.  the  passage  from  The  Press,  cited  afiU,  p.  7  note,  and  post  at 
opening  of  Chapter  VI. 


ii6  DISRAELI 

and  so  little  gentleness."  ^  Exclusion  from  the  suffrage 
prevented  the  natural  representation  of  injuries,  and  com- 
pelled Labour  to  band  itself  covertly,  and  often  under 
leaders  embittered  and  embittering  with  personal  and  clash- 
ing ambitions.  The  Reform  Act,  contended  Disraeli,  had 
not  reposed  the  government  in  abler  hands,  nor  elevated  the 
head  or  enlarged  the  heart  of  Parliament.  "...  On  the 
contrary,  one  House  of  Parliament"  (he  is  writing  in  1845) 
"has  been  irremediably  degraded  into  the  decaying  position 
of  a  mere  court  of  registry,  possessing  great  privileges,  on 
condition  that  it  never  exercises  them  ;  while  the  other 
Chamber,  that  at  the  first  blush  and  to  the  superficial 
exhibits  symptoms  of  almost  unnatural  vitality,  .  .  .  assumes 
on  a  more  studious  inspection  somewhat  of  the  character  of 
a  select  vestry  fulfilling  municipal  rather  than  imperial 
offices,  and  beleaguered  by  critical  and  clamorous  millions  who 
cannot  comprehend  why  a  privileged  and  exclusive  senate  is 
requisite  to  perform  functions  which  immediately  concern 
all.  .  .  ." 

Undoubtedly  Labour  is  far  better  situated  in  1904 
than  it  was  in  1844,  and  undoubtedly  this  improvement  is 
partly  due  to  Disraeli's  influence  and  action.  The  ideals  of 
"Young  England"  have  borne  fruit.  Our  "Toynbee  Halls" 
and  university  settlements,  the  recognition  of  noblesse  oblige, 
the  trained  public  opinion  that  superior  light  and  leading 
are  in  duty  bound  to  lead  and  enlighten  as  well  as  help 
the  poor  ;  that  the  poor  are  their  tenants  ;  that — 

"  Not  what  we  give,  but  what  we  share  : 
The  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare  ;  " 

— these  and  their  tone  are  its  outcome.  His  policies  of 
health  and  humanisation,  of  wholesome  housing  before  tech- 
nical teaching,  for  first  emancipating  Labour  from  carking 
cares  and  then  entrusting  it  with  public  duties,  have  pros- 
pered. Chartism  and  its  allied  mutinies  have  subsided  into 
citizenship.  The  artisans  of  to-day  are  princes  in  comparison 
with  what  they  were.  The  contracted  sloth  of  the  utilitarian 
middle  class  has  been  shaken  to  follow  what  emanated  from 
*  Bishop  Latimer — quoted  as  motto  to  Syb7'i. 


LABOUR  117 

the  universities.  In  his  Guildhall  speeches  of  1874  and  1875 
Disraeli  could  point  with  pride  to  Capital  at  one  with  Labour, 
and  to  operatives  in  sympathy  with  privileges  which  they 
shared.  At  this  moment  they  are  catered  as  well  as  cared 
for  ;  and  yet  their  independence  is  far  completer  than  when 
it  was  aggressive  because  it  was  cowed. 

But  none  the  less,  the  fatal  overcrowding  which  he 
foresaw,  the  self-divestment  by  Mammon  of  direct  and  im- 
mediate responsibilities,  has  produced  a  fresh  class  of  the 
"  sweated  "  and  rookeried  masses,  multiplying  the  unemployed 
and — what  is  worse — the  unemployable  in  compound  ratio, 
and  still  menacing  the  physique  of  the  nation.  The 
pressure  of  poverty  is  ever  with  us  ;  of  its  wretchedness 
research  has  indeed  called  forth  a  science.  As  what  we  deemed 
the  lowest  ascends,  a  fresh  depth  of  distress  is  always  bared 
to  our  shame.  The  democratisation  of  local  government 
through  the  county  councils  has  indeed  done  much,  and  will 
do  more,  for  the  proletariate  ;  but  their  lack,  with  notable 
exceptions,  of  high  leadership,  their  tendency  to  municipal 
centralisation,  their  careless  and  inexperienced  prodigality 
with  the  public  purse,  their  bias  towards  pauperisation, 
their  tendency  to  promote  the  feverish  political  ambitions 
of  a  class,  and  sometimes  to  confuse  the  cause  of  industry 
with  that  of  its  captains,  remain  a  danger,  though,  I  believe, 
a  vanishing  danger,  to  the  State. 

Disraeli's  earliest  novel — one  of  the  books  "written  by 
boys,"  vague  in  its  restlessness  and  untamed  in  its  dazzling 
extravagance,  contains  in  its  episode  of  "  Poor  John  Conyers  " 
the  germ  of  that  genuine  sympathy  with  Labour  which  he 
afterwards  more  seriously  developed.  Apart  from  his  human 
instincts  and  from  his  desire  for  a  real  national  unity,  it  was 
founded  on  his  contempt  for  the  merely  mechanical  or  formal  in 
society  ;  and  in  1845,  on  that  tour  of  experience  in  Lancashire 
which  brought  home  to  him  anew  the  terrible  gulf  between 
"  the  two  nations  "  of  rich  and  poor,  and  which  the  pathos,  the 
humour,  the  wit  and  the  thought  of  Sybil  have  immortalised. 

Few  that  have  read  Coningsby  will  forget  the  vivid  im- 
pressions of  Manchester  machinery  in  its  pages.     They  are. 


ii8  DISRAELI 

perhaps,  too  familiar  for  quotation,  and  I  prefer  here  to  cite 
some  sentences  from  Sybil. 

"...  Twelve  hours  of  daily  labour  at  the  rate  of  one 
penny  each  hour ;  and  even  this  labour  is  mortgaged,"  groans 
the  loom-worker.  "...  Then  why  am  I  here  .^  ...  It  is 
that  the  capitalist  has  found  a  slave  that  has  supplanted  the 
labour  and  ingenuity  of  man.  Once  he  was  an  artisan  ;  at 
the  best  he  only  now  watches  machines  ;  and  even  that  occu- 
pation slips  from  his  grasp  to  the  woman  and  the  child.  The 
capitalist  flourishes,  he  amasses  wealth  ;  we  sink,  lower  and 
lower ;  lower  than  the  beasts  of  burthen  ;  for  they  are  fed 
better  than  we  are,  cared  for  more.  And  it  is  just,  for 
according  to  the  present  system  they  are  more  precious. 
And  yet  they  tell  us  that  the  interests  of  Capital  and  of 
Labour  are  identical.  If  a  society  that  has  been  created  by 
labour  suddenly  becomes  independent  of  it,  that  society  is  bound 
to  maintain  the  race  whose  only  property  is  labour,  out  of  the 
proceeds  of  that  other  property  which  has  not  ceased  to  be  pro- 
ductive. .  .  .  We  sink  among  no  sighs  except  our  own.  And 
if  they  give  us  sympathy — what  then  .''  Sympathy  is  the 
solace  of  the  Poor  ;  but  for  the  Rich  there  is  Compensation. 

"  You  (the  nobles)  govern  us  still  with  absolute  authority, 
and  you  govern  the  most  miserable  people  on  the  face  of  the 
globe.  'And  is  this  a  fair  description  of  the  people  of 
England  ? '  said  Lord  Valentine.  *  A  flash  of  rhetoric,  I  pre- 
sume, that  would  place  them  lower  than  .  .  .  the  serfs  of 
Russia  or  the  lazzaroni  of  Naples.' 

" '  Infinitely  lower,'  said  the  delegate,  '  for  they  are  not 
only  degraded,  but  conscious  of  their  degradation.  They  no 
longer  believe  in  any  difference  between  the  governing  and  the 
goverjted  classes  of  this  country.  They  are  sufficiently  en- 
lightened to  feel  they  are  victims.  Compared  with  the 
privileged  of  their  own  land,  they  are  in  a  lower  state  than 
any  other  population  compared  with  its  privileged  classes.' 

"'The  people  must  have  leaders,'  said  Lord  Valentine. 

" '  And  they  have  found  them,'  said  the  delegate. 

"'When  it  comes  to  a  push,  they  will  follow  their 
nobility,'  said  Lord  Valentine. 

" '  Will  their  nobility  lead  them  ? '  said  the  other  dele- 
gate. .  .  . 


LABOUR  119 

"*We  have  an  aristocracy  of  wealth,'  said  the  delegate 
who  had  chiefly  spoken.  '  In  a  progressive  civilisation  wealth 
is  the  only  means  of  class  distinction  ;  but  a  new  disposition 
of  wealth  may  remove  even  this.' 

"*Ah!  You  want  to  get  at  our  estates,'  said  Lord 
Valentine,  smiling,  '  but  the  effort  on  your  part  may  resolve 
society  into  its  original  elements,  and  the  old  sources  of  dis- 
tinction may  again  develop  themselves.' 

"'Tall  barons  will  not  stand  against  Paixhans'  rockets,' 
said  the  delegate.  '  Modern  science  has  vindicated  the 
natural  equality  of  man.' 

"'And  I  must  say  I  am  very  sorry  for  it,'  said  the  other 
delegate  ;  '  for  human  strength  always  seems  to  me  the  natural 
process  of  settling  affairs.'  " 

To  cherish  national  unison  as  a  higher  form  of  human 
harmony  than  the  discordant  bond  of  automatic  groups  ;  to 
force  the  governing  to  sympathise  with  the  governed  ;  to 
establish  that  "  Labour  requires  regulation  as  much  as  Pro- 
perty ; "  to  raise,  train,  improve  and  establish  labour  "  rather," 
as  he  wrote  in  1870,  "by  the  use  of  ancient  forms  and  the 
restoration  of  the  past  than  by  political  revolutions  founded 
on  abstract  ideas,"  were  Disraeli's  aims.  In  all  except  the 
important  one  of  the  last,  the  means  for  accomplishing  them, 
Carlyle's  message  is  the  same.  There  is  a  passage  in  Con- 
iftgsby  where  Disraeli  dreams  that  a  day  may  come  when 
industry  will  cease  to  obey  mere  industrialism.  There  is 
another  in  Carlyle's  "  Past  and  Present "  ^  to  the  same 
effect.  For  both,  the  nobility  of  labour  was  a  central 
idea  ;  for  both,  the  conviction  that  the  cavaliers  of  England 
should  prove  its  captains  ;  for  both,  Sanitas  saiiitat/nn  was  a 
practical  ideal.  "Deliver  me,"  cries  Carlyle,  "these  rickety 
perishing  souls  of  infants,  and  let  your  cotton  trade  take  its 
chance."  Disraeli  and  Carlyle  alike  abominated  the  doctrine 
that  national  happiness  consists  merely  in  material  wealth. 
A  shared  or  common  wealth  of  endeavour  and  influence  was 
a  goal  for  each  ;  for  each,  too,  the  main  problem  remained, 

1  Book  iv.  ch.  iv. :  " .  .  .  To  be  a  noble  Master  among  noble  Workers 
will  again  be  the  first  ambition  with  some  few  ;  to  be  a  rich  Master  only 
the  second." 


I20  DISRAELI 

"  How,  in  conjunction  ivith  inevitable  democracy,  indispensable 
sovereignty  is  to  exists 

"...  If  there  be  a  change,"  said  Sybil,  "  it  is  because  in 
some  degree  the  People  have  learnt  their  strength." 

"  Ah  !  Dismiss  from  your  mind  those  fallacious  fancies," 
said  Egremont.  "  The  People  are  not  strong ;  the  People 
never  can  be  strong.  Their  attempts  at  self-vindication  will 
end  only  in  their  suffering  and  confusion.  It  is  civilisation 
that  has  effected,  that  is  effecting,  this  change.  It  is  that 
increased  knowledge  of  themselves  that  teaches  the  educated 
their  social  duties.  There  is  a  day-spring  in  the  history  of 
this  nation  which  perhaps  those  only  who  are  on  the  moicntain- 
tops  can  as  yet  recognise.  Yon  deem  yon  are  in  darkness,  and 
I  see  a  dazvn.  The  new  generation  of  the  aristocracy  of 
England  are  not  tyrants,  not  oppressors,  Sybil.  .  .  . 
Their  intelligence,  better  than  that,  their  hearts,  are  open 
to  the  responsibility  of  their  situation.  But  the  work 
that  lies  before  them  is  no  holiday  work.  It  is  not  the 
fever  of  superficial  impulse  that  can  remove  the  deep-fixed 
barriers  of  centuries  of  ignorance  and  crime.  Enough  that 
their  sympathies  are  awakened  ;  time  and  thought  will  bring 
the  rest.  They  are  the  natural  leaders  of  the  People, 
Sybil.  ..." 

I  may  be  permitted  to  point  out  a  likeness  and  a  contrast. 
The  seething  ferment  on  the  Continent  was  pricking  Labour 
into  an  insurgent  materialism  which,  in  the  dearth  of  ancient 
and  active  institutions  fraught  with  the  balm  of  healing, 
leagued  itself  to  attack  all  forms  of  authority,  kingship  and 
capital  alike. 

"Ah,  the  People,  this  poor  King  in  tatters,"  wrote  Heine 
from  Paris  in  1848,  "has  fallen  on  flatterers  far  more  shame- 
less, as  they  swing  their  censers  around  his  head,  than  the 
courtiers  of  Byzantium  or  Versailles.  These  court  lackeys  of 
the  People  incessantly  vaunt  its  virtues  and  excellences, 
crying  aloud  :  '  How  beautiful  is  the  People !  how  good  is  the 
People !  how  intelligent  is  the  People  I '  No,  you  lie.  The 
People  is  not  beautiful ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  very  ugly. 
But  its  ugliness  is  due  to  its  dirt,  and  will  vanish  with  public 
baths   for  the  free  ablutions  of   his    Majesty.     A  piece  of 


LABOUR  121 

soap,  too,  will  do  no  harm  ;  and  we  shall  then  see  a  People 
in  the  beauty  of  cleanliness— a  washen  People.  The  People 
whose  goodness  is  thus  magnified  is  not  good  at  all.  It  is 
often  as  bad  as  other  potentates.  But  its  baseness  flows 
from  hunger.  When  once  it  has  well  eaten  and  drunk,  it 
will  smile,  gracious  and  well-favoured  as  the  rest.  Nor  is 
his  Majesty  over-intelligent.  He  is  possibly  stupider  than 
the  others — stupid  with  the  bestiality  of  his  minions  ;  he 
will  only  love  or  heed  the  speakers,  or  howlers,  of  the  jargon 
of  his  passions  :  he  hates  every  brave  soul  that  converses  in 
the  speech  of  reason,  and  that  would  ennoble  and  enlighten 
him." 

Heine  was  leading  "Young  Germany."  A  few  years 
earlier,  Disraeli  was  leading  "  Young  England."  The  contrast 
between  the  atmosphere  of  the  two  countries  deserves  a 
passing  comment.  "Young  England"  aimed  at  betterment 
in  that  very  feudal  spirit  which  the  poet — the  "unfrocked 
Romantic " — by  turns  breathed  and  spurned.  In  Germany 
the  weird  medley  of  the  "Romantic  School"  had  for  fifty 
years  been  striving  to  rewaken  the  myths,  the  chivalry,  the 
wistfulness  of  the  past.  But  its  direct  influences  were  merely 
aesthetic,  and  mainly  sentimental ;  while  they  eventually 
became  actually  anaemic — a  vague  reverie  of  mediaeval  moon- 
light and  pallid  ghosts.  The  uprooting  French  Revolution 
had  swept  away  both  castle  and  cobwebs,  and  in  Germany 
the  "  folk-song  "  was  the  sole  antiquity  to  which  this  Romantic 
attachment  could  cling,  and  by  which  it  could  touch  the 
patriotism  of  a  disunited  people.  But  in  England,  Scott's 
"  buff-jerkin "  revival,  at  which  Carlyle  so  unjustly  scoffed, 
was  more  than  a  literary  sport ;  it  had  already  braced  the 
nation  with  the  fresh  breeze  of  an  invigorating  tradition.  It 
brought  back  and  home  the  inheritance  of  a  real  throne  and 
a  real  nobility,  of  chivalry,  of  daring,  and  of  prowess  ;  it 
reminded  the  people  that  the  humblest  was  once  protected  by 
the  highest ;  and  though  it  perhaps  burked  or  omitted  much 
that  disgraced  the  age  of  the  tournament,  the  foray,  and  the 
cloister,  it  quickened  its  best,  its  most  hopeful  and  most 
cheerful  elements.  It  took  the  dry  bones  from  their  moulder- 
ing tomb  and  put  the  breath  of  life,  the  wholesome  laughter 


122  DISRAELI 

of  humour,  and  the  brightness  of  beauty  into  and  about  their 
scattered  fragments  ;  whereas  in  Germany  the  Romantics 
rather  embalmed  and  buried  the  living  energies  of  the  present 
in  a  Gothic  mausoleum,  weird  with  wan  emblems,  and  chill 
and  solemn  as  a  cathedral  vault. 

Disraeli  recognised  that  our  country  thrives  by  adaptation 
and  adjustment ;  that  it  is  the  region  of  natural  growth,  and 
not  of  sudden  blossom  ;  of  the  oak,  not  the  aloe.  In  inter- 
dependence, even  more  than  independence,  in  the  mutual 
ties  of  classes,  Disraeli  discerned  the  English  root  for  demo- 
cratic ideas  which  had  all  along  lurked  in  the  soil.  England 
is  great  because  of  that  same  insular  inaccessibility  to  ideas 
which  repelled  Heine.  Her  slowness  of  insight  vanishes 
gradually,  and  not  by  leaps  and  bounds — through  growth  and 
conduct  rather  than  through  universal  theories.  An  idea 
knocks  at  our  gates  for  generations  before  it  wins  admittance  ; 
but  when  it  once  enters,  it  becomes  naturalised  and  ceases  to 
be  alien  ;  it  becomes  actuahsed  ;  it  dwells  and  walks  and  votes, 
and  has  commerce  at  large.  It  becomes  part  of  the  popular 
life  and  parcel  of  the  national  behaviour. 

"Young  England"  prepared  the  ground  for  social  regene- 
ration. It  sought  to  raise  the  conditions  of  labour.  It  was 
no  rose-water  club,  but,  short-lived  as  it  proved,  was  a  real 
forerunner  of  measures.  A  word,  therefore,  upon  it  may  be 
pardoned  in  this  connection.  Many  in  the  past  century  have 
played  the  part  of  "saviours  of  society."  Robert  Owen, 
Ferdinand  Lassalle,  Napoleon  III.,  Karl  Marx,  and  the 
eccentric  Mr.  Urquhart,  who  furnished  some  of  the  traits  for 
Disraeli's  "  Sidonia."  ^  But  none  in  this  country  have  been  at 
once  so  genuine  and  effective  as  this  association  of  "  Young 
England  ; "  for,  enlisting  the  enthusiasm  of  the  high  and  the 
young,  it  struck  into  the  roots  of  national  character,  without 
which  no  development  is  feasible.  Young  England  aimed 
further,  at  rendering  leadership  sympathetic  with  labour.  It 
wanted  to  revive  in  the  lowly  a  sense  of  privilege,  and  in  the 

^  "Sidonia"  stands  for  several  types  in  addition  to  Disraeli's  own. 
"  Oswald  Millbank  "  is  in  part  painted  from  the  young  Gladstone.  Most 
of  the  other  characters  in  Coningsby  are  familiarly  ascribed  to  their 
originals. 


"YOUNG  ENGLAND"  123 

noble  to  quicken  higher  standards  of  obligation  ;  it  wished 
to  recall  the  heroic ;  and  this  it  tried  to  accomplish,  not  by 
social  disturbance,  but  by  seeking  to  arouse  ancient  ideals 
still  slumbering  in  national  traditions.  For  this  purpose  it 
appealed  to  youth — "  the  trustees  of  posterity  ; "  ^  to  the 
power  of  personal  influence  and  example  ;  and  above  all, 
it  hoped,  as  I  have  already  noticed,  to  counteract  the 
souUessness  of  utilitarianism. 

"Ah,  yes !  "  (Disraeli  makes  Gerard  observe  in  Sybil) ;  "  I 
know  that  style  of  speculation.  .  .  .  Your  gentlemen  who 
remind  you  that  a  working  man  now  has  a  pair  of  cotton 
stockings,  and  that  Harry  the  Eighth  was  not  so  well  off.  At 
any  rate,  the  condition  of  classes  must  be  judged  of  by  the 
age  and  by  their  relations  with  each  other." 

It  was  also  a  vigorous  protest  against  that  retort  of  the 
Liberal  on  the  Radical — the  sluggish  doctrine  of  laissez-faire, 
the  principle  of  "  stew-in-your-own-juice,"  "  devil  take  the 
hindmost,"  "  muddling  through,"  and  "  let  ///  alone."  Disraeli 
had  combated  it  from  the  first : — 

"  In  Vraibleusia  "  (I  quote  from  his  early  satire  oiPopanilla) 
"  we  have  so  much  to  do  that  we  have  no  time  to  think — a 
habit  which  only  becomes  nations  who  are  not  employed. 
You  are  now  fast  approaching  the  great  shell  question  ;  a 
question  which,  I  confess,  affects  the  interest  of  every  man  in 
this  island  more  than  any  other.  ...  No  one,  however,  can 
deny  that  the  system  works  well ;  and  if  anything  at  any  time 
go  wrong,  why,  really  Mr.  Secretary  Periwinkle  is  a  wonderful 
man,  and  our  most  eminent  conchologist — he  no  doubt  will 
set  it  right ;  and  if  by  any  chance  things  are  past  even  his 
management,  why,  then,  I  suppose,  to  use  our  national  motto, 
something  will  turn  up." 

It  further  served  as  antidote  to  the  self-complacence  and 
retail  outlook  of  the  bourgeoisie.  The  "Middle-Middles," 
healthfully  and  powerfully  as  they  symbolise  decency,  order, 
and  common  sense,  too  often  lack,  even   in  their  educated 

'  This  phrase  he  twice  repeats  ;  the  first  time  in  that  fine  speech  at 
the  Manchester  Athenaeum  (1844),  on  the  "Acquirement  of  Know- 
ledge," which  expressed  his  undying  sympathy  with  the  ideals,  perplexities, 
and  possibilities  of  youth. 


124  DISRAELI 

varieties,  perception  and  sympathy.  At  present  they  pervade 
Parh'ament,  while  the  Press — which  since  1867  appeals  more 
and  more  to  the  gallery— controls  opinion.  Hence  the  dearth 
of  accord  between  the  prate  of  Parliament  and  a  nation  that 
realises  its  unity.  Hence  springs  the  momentary  decay  of 
Parliament  itself — not  from  party  spirit,  but  from  the  inanition 
of  parties  representing  principles,  without  which  party  sinks 
into  faction. 

Of  the  anti-middle  class  attitude  of  "Young  England,"  a 
notable  instance  occurs  in  "  Angela  Pisani,"  the  brilliant  fiction 
of  George  Smythe,  afterwards  seventh  Lord  Strangford  (in 
Disraeli's  words),  "  a  man  of  brilliant  gifts  ;  of  dazzling  wit, 
infinite  culture  and  fascinating  manners,"  who  "could  promul- 
gate a  new  faith  with  graceful  enthusiasm."  The  tirade  is 
placed  on  the  lips  of  Napoleon,  denouncing  the  "puddle- 
blooded  "  whom  he  had  "  made  great  men,  but  could  not  make 
gentlemen,"  and  its  reproaches— certainly  not  characteristic  of 
Disraeli — apply,  of  course,  in  an  infinitely  less  degree  to 
England. 

The  nucleus  of  "  Young  England  "  had  begun  in  a  close 
association  of  university  friends.  The  Cambridge  "  Apostles  " 
comprised  Tennyson  and  Hallam,  Monteith  and  Doyle,  and 
"  Cool-of-the-evening "  Monckton-Milnes.  Disraeli,  Lord 
Strangford,  and  Lord  John  Manners  reinforced  this  nucleus 
with  Faber,  Hope,  Baillie  Cochrane  (afterwards  Lord  Lam- 
ington),  and  others  ;  they  gave  them  an  ampler  scope  and  a 
longer  view,  but  not  without  murmuring  jealousies.  They 
taught  that  the  spirit  of  reform  transcended  its  letter,  and 
that  the  English  "  romantic  school " — ^just  as  later  on  the 
English  pre-Raphaelites  in  Art— must  reseek  the  fountain- 
head  of  original  principles.  Milnes  wrote  in  1844:  "You 
must  have  been  amused  at  the  name  of  'Young  England,' 
which  we  started  so  long  ago,  being  usurped  by  opinions 
so  different  and  so  inferior  a  tone  of  thought.  It  is,  how- 
ever, a  good  phenomenon  in  its  way,  and  one  of  its  pro- 
ducts— Lord  John  Manners — a  very  fine,  promising  fellow. 
The  worst  of  them  is  that  they  are  going  about  the 
country  talking  education  and  liberality,  and  getting 
immense  honour  for  the  very  things  for  which  the  Radicals 


"YOUNG  ENGLAND  '  125 

have  been  called  all  possible  blackguards  and  atheists  a  few 
years  ago." 

The  newer  Radical  reforms,  however,  were  based  on  "the 
greatest  happiness  "  principle  of  utility  ;  whereas  the  league 
of  "Young  England"  was  founded  on  the  expansion  of 
traditions,  and  more  especially  on  the  immemorial  rights  of 
Labour.  What  "  Young  England"  really  effected  was  to  infuse 
enthusiasm  into  institutions.  In  1838  this  same  "Mr.  Vava- 
sour "  of  Tancred,  and  "  Mr.  Tremaine  Bertie  "  of  Eiidymion, 
had  also  written :  "  We  have  set  agoing  a  new  dining  club 
which  promises  well.  Twenty  of  the  most  charming  men  in 
the  universe  met  last  Tuesday.  They  won't  call  it  'Young 
England,'  however."  It  is  no  disrespect  to  the  memory  of 
the  late  Lord  Houghton  to  say  that  the  vague  eclecticism  of 
his  youth  scarcely  fostered  a  robust  energy  or  a  keen  insight 
His  "  remarks  "  on  Coningsby  in  Hood's  Magazine  under  the 
name  of  "  Real  England  "  were  a  sympathetic  commentary  ; 
but,  a  born  dilettante,  he  "  lionised  "  ideas  as  he  "  lionised " 
genius.  He  patted  intuition  on  the  back.  He  was  the  Mrs. 
Leo  Hunter  of  politics  ;  and  he  played  admirably  the  part 
of  "  Bennet  Langton  "  to  Carlyle's  "  Dr.  Johnson."  He  some- 
what prattled  of  "silences"  and  "eternities."  Well  does 
Disraeli  make  "  Waldershare  "  in  Endymio7i  exclaim  of  him  : 
"...  What  I  do  like  in  him  ...  is  this  revival  of  the  Pytha- 
gorean system,  and  heading  a  party  of  silence.     That  is  rich." 

Lord  Lamington — the  "  Buckhurst  "  of  Coningsby — who  in 
his  pleasant  glimpse  of  the  movement  has  supplemented  its 
muster-roll  by  the  names  of  Borthwick  and  Stafford,  quotes 
Serjeant  Murphy's  pasquinade  of  "  Jack  Sheppard."  Its  last 
verse  runs  as  follows  ; — 

"  We  have  Smythe  and  Hope  luith  his  opera-hat, 
But  they  cannot  get  Dicky  Milnes,  thafsflat — 
He  is  7iot yet  tinctured  with  Puseyite  leavening; 
But  he  may  drop  in  in  the  *  cool  of  the  evening.^" 

The  "  Puseyite  leavening  "  recalls  the  strictures  of  Carlyle 
on  the  High  Church  proclivities  of  a  portion  of  the  move- 
ment. Coleridge's  great  book  on  the  Church  had  undoubtedly 
stirred  both  thought   and  enthusiasm.      Disraeli,  as  I  shall 


126  DISRAELI 

show  hereafter,  wished  to  make  the  Church  a  living  social 
regenerator  of  the  "  national  spirit,"  to  see  it  at  once  disci- 
plined and  enthusiastic,  to  restore  its  original  functions,  to 
render  it  really  "Anglican  ;"  and  in  his  old  age— strenuously- 
opposed  as  he  ever  was  to  the  "  mass  in  masquerade,"  firmly 
resolved  as  he  remained  to  uphold  orderly  Protestantism — he 
has  outlined  at  once  a  portrait  and  a  type  of  his  permanent 
meaning  in  the  person  of  "  Nigel  Penruddock  ;  "  just  as  he  has 
drawn  a  picture  of  "Young  England"  Anglicanism  in  the 
"  St.  Lys  "  of  Sybil,  the  prototype  of  whom  was  Faber. 

In  the  spring  of  1844,  Carlyle  thus  characteristically 
addresses  Monckton-Milnes — 

"...  On  the  whole,  if  '  Young  England '  would  altogether 
fiing  its  shovel-hat  into  the  lumber-room,  much  more  cast  its 
purple  stockings  to  the  nettles,  and  honestly  recognising  what  was 
dead,  .  .  .  address  itself  frankly  to  the  magnificent  but  as  yet 
chaotic  Future,  .  .  .  telling  men  at  every  turn  that  it  knew  and 
saw  for  ever  clearly  the  body  of  the  Past  to  be  dead  {and  even 
to  be  damnable,  if  it  pretended  to  be  still  alive  and  to  go  about  i?t 
a  galvanic  state),  what  achievement  might  not  '  Young  England' 
manage  for  us  !  "  Carlyle  was  ever  a  free-thinking  Puritan,  a 
creedless  Calvinist.  "What  was  dead,"  "what  pretended 
still  to  be  alive,"  was  the  Church  of  England.  ...  It  is  easy 
to  deride  that  youthful  display  of  poor  metre,  but  fine 
enthusiasm,  "  England's  Trust,"  by  Lord  John  Manners. 

"  JVtt/i  Ro7icesvalles  vpon  his  banners 
Comes  pranci7ig  along  my  Lord  John  Manner sP 

Carlyle  misliked  in  him  what  he  disliked  in  Scott,  the 
"  properties "  of  Romanticism.  But  the  earnestness  of 
Manners's  little  volume  is  beyond  question.  In  the  Church 
it  recognises  the  national  recuperative  force  and  salve  for 
anarchy.  "We  laugh  at  all  commandment  save  our  own," 
sighs  the  boyish  devotee — 

"  Yes,  through  the  Church  must  come  the  healing  power 
To  bind  our  wounds  in  this  tumultuous  hourP 

And  Labour  had  ever  been  the  sacred  trust  of  the  Church. 
Divorce  Labour  from  religion,  and  the  State  falls.     It  had 


'YOUNG  ENGLAND  "  127 

been  the  fault  of  the  Church  herself  that  Labour  had  gone 
out  of  history,  as  it  were,  and  crossed  over  to  a  more  primitive 
form  of  true  religious  fervour  under  the  Methodist  revival ; 
but  the  Church  alone,  as  a  national  growth,  could  hope,  if 
true  to  its  high  destinies,  for  the  preservation  of  the  great 
mass  of  the  populace  from  the  disruptive  elements  of  unbelief 
The  Church,  too,  was  the  natural  educator  of  the  people. 
True,  Manners's  Anglicanism  was  that  of  Laud  ;  true,  also,  to 
that  name  he  rhymes  "adored."  But  it  is  also  true  that  the 
whole  brotherhood  felt  that  if  the  Church,  and  through  it  the 
State,  was  to  be  quickened,  it  must  revert,  like  the  State,  to 
its  origin ;  it  must  no  more  be  regarded  merely  as  an 
endowed  official  or  as  a  consecrated  police,  but  as  a  divine 
institution.  Moreover,  Disraeli  also  regarded  the  English 
Church  as  the  special  protectress  of  popular  liberties.  I  shall 
return  to  this  subject  in  its  proper  place  hereafter;  but  I 
may  here  add  that  these  convictions  of  "Young  England" 
were  vehemently  advocated  by  Disraeli  in  his  speeches  on  the 
Irish  Church  more  than  twenty  years  after  the  "Young 
England  "  brotherhood  came  to  an  end. 

Disraeli  always  urged  the  immense  importance  of  parochial 
life  as  even  greater  than  political.  Had  the  higher  classes 
understood  "  the  order  of  the  peasantry,"  ricks  and  dwellings 
would  not  have  been  burned  down  in  the  'thirties.  In  advo- 
cating the  claims  of  ancient  country-side  customs,  he  raised 
the  plea  of  humanising  ceremony — one  certainly  cherished  by 
the  upper  classes  for  themselves.  The  people  would  not,  it 
is  true,  be  "  fed  "  by  morris  revelries,  and  they  starved  equally 
without  them. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  such  a  cause,  with  such  a 
leader,  followed  by  aristocratic  youth  and  attended  by  the 
revival  of  maypole  dances  and  tournaments,  should  escape 
ridicule  and  even  suspicion.  Grey-headed  noblemen,  who 
resented  any  efforts  to  render  institutions  real,  and  for 
whom  enthusiasm  meant  vulgarity,  shook  their  heads  over 
the  follies  of  their  sons,  seduced  by  the  wiles  of  a  designing 
adventurer.  But  to  such  as  still  doubt  Disraeli's  sincerity  in 
these  matters,  and  refuse  to  be  convinced  by  a  long  chain 
of  after-utterances,  I  would  simply  suggest  the  following  fact. 


128  DISRAELI 

Disraeli's  speech  of  April  ii,  1S45,  on  the  Maynooth  grant  ^ 
broke  up  the  "  Young  England  "  association,  and  terminated 
his  leadership  of  it.  What  was  the  main  principle  of  that 
speech?  It  was  this:  "...  You  find  your  Erastian  system 
crumbling  from  under  your  feet.  ...  I  have  unfaltering 
confidence  in  the  stability  of  our  Church,  but  I  think  that 
the  real  source  of  the  danger  which  threatens  it  is  its  connec- 
tion with  the  State,  which  places  it  under  the  control  of  the 
House  of  Commons  that  is  not  necessarily  of  its  communion." 
He  denied  that  the  State  had  ever  "  endowed  "  the  Church. 
The  Church  owned  property  which  was  the  patrimony  of  the 
poor.  He  argued  that  since  1829  the  State's  relation  to  the 
Church  had  altered.  He  implied,  as  he  often  afterwards 
asserted,  that  the  union  of  Church  and  State  was  for  the 
benefit  of  the  State  far  more  than  for  that  of  the  Church. 
Now,  this  attitude  was  eminently  that  of  his  "  Young  Eng- 
land "  professions.  And  yet  its  fearless  expression  dissolved 
a  gathering  which  his  detractors  maintained  was  used  merely 
as  a  step  to  personal  advancement. 

Carlyle,  in  the  passage  above  cited,  evinced  the  same 
irritable  impatience  that  he  exhibited  in  1849,  when  he 
cursed  parliamentary  institutions  because  a  particular  Parlia- 
ment had  over-talked  itself.  He  was  an  iconoclast  who, 
however,  often  confused  the  symbol  with  the  faith  that  under- 
lies it,  and  in  dethroning  the  image  would  have  dashed  the 
glamour  of  its  shrine.  In  1848 — the  year  of  anarchy — 
Disraeli  made  a  famous  speech  (the  speech  which  procured 
him  his  future  leadership  of  the  House).  He  upheld  these 
institutions  while  he  denounced  that  very  Parliament  which 
moved  Carlyle's  indignation.  The  future  has  proved  him 
right,  and  the  sage  wrong.  The  practical  fruits  of  the  future, 
too,  have  vindicated  the  peculiar  tinge  that  Disraeli  himself 
lent  to  the  "  Young  England  "  brotherhood. 

One  closing  word  on  the  social  aims  of  "  Young  England." 
I  may  summarise  them  by  the  phrase  "  Health  and  Home." 
They  compassed  the  relief  of  industry,  and  they  implied  the 

^  This  was  the  speech  in  which  he  said  that  Gladstone  founded 
"  a  great  measure  on  a  small  precedent.  He  traces  the  steam-engine 
always  back  to  the  tea-kettle." 


-YOUNG   ENGLAND"  129 

effort  to  shame    the  knights  of  industry  into  some  chivahy 
towards  it. 

"  Pitt,"  wisely  comments  Mr.  Kebbel,  "  ended  the  quarrel 
between  the  King  and  the  aristocracy,  and  reconciled  the 
Whig  doctrine  of  monarchy  with  the  Whig  doctrine  of  Parlia- 
ment. Peel  accommodated  Toryism  to  the  new  regime 
established  by  the  Reform  Bill,  and  his  name  will  always  be 
identified  with  the  progress  of  middle-class  reform.  Lord 
Beaconsfield  carried  Toryism  into  the  next  stage,  and  made  it 
the  business  of  his  life  to  close  tip  the  gap  in  onr  social  system 
which  .  .  .  had  been  gradually  widening,  and  to  reconcile 
the  working  classes  to  the  Thro?ie,  the  Church,  and  the 
Aristocracy." 

To  those  who  object  that  beyond  Foreign  Policy  and  the 
last  Reform  Bill,  Disraeli  effected  little  that  is  lasting,  this  is 
the  answer.  He  was  prouder  of  his  many  social  reforms  than 
of  his  Berlin  Treaty.  He  was  a  born  conciliator.  He  put  a 
new  and  powerful  leaven  into  the  social  lump,  and  he  inspired 
the  generous  youth  of  the  country.  What  he  especially  sought 
to  mitigate  was  irresponsible  Plutocracy,  with  a  shifting  stock 
of  vagrant  and  unrelated  Labour  bought  in  the  cheapest 
market,  sold  in  the  dearest ;  without  stability,  without  ties, 
without  allegiance. 

" '  I  am  not  against  Capital '  (he  makes  "  Enoch  Craggs  " 
declaim  in  Ejidymion),  '  what  I  am  against  is  Capitalists.' 

" '  But  if  we  get  rid  of  capitalists,  we  shall  soon  get  rid  of 
capital' 

" '  No,  no,'  said  Enoch,  with  his  broad  accent,  shaking  his 
head  and  with  a  laughing  eye.  '  Master  Thornberry  (the 
Radical)  has  been  telling  you  that.  He  is  the  most  inveterate 
capitalist  of  the  whole  lot.  .  .  .  Master  Thornberry  is  against 
the  capitalists  in  land  ;  but  there  are  other  capitalists  nearer 
home,  and  I  know  more  about  them.  I  was  reading  a  book 
the  other  day  about  King  Charles — Charles  I.,  whose 
head  they  cut  off — I  am  very  liking  to  that  time,  and  read  a 
good  deal  about  it ;  and  there  was  Lord  Falkland,  a  great 
gentleman  of  those  days,  and  he  said  when  Archbishop  Laud 
was  trying  on  some  of  his  priestly  tricks,  that  "  If  he  were  to 
have  a  Pope,  he  would  rather  the  Pope  were  at  Rome  than 

K 


130  DISRAELI 

Lambeth."  So  I  sometimes  think,  if  we  are  to  be  ruled  by 
capitah'sts,  I  would  sooner,  perhaps,  be  ruled  by  gentlemen  of 
estate,  who  have  been  long  among  us,  than  by  persons  who 
build  big  mills,  who  come  from  God  knows  where,  and,  when 
they  have  worked  their  millions  out  of  our  flesh  and  bone,  go 
God  knows  where.  .  .  . '  " 

The  two  river  bills  caried  at  Disraeli's  instigation  in 
1852  ;  the  twenty-nine  bills  for  ameliorating  the  position  of 
factory  operatives,  passed  despite  those  Radicals  who  pre- 
dicted ruin  for  the  manufacturer  ;  the  Employers  and  Work- 
men Acts,  the  Conspiracy  and  Protection  of  Property  Act, 
the  Poor  Law  Amendment  Act,  the  Commons  Act,  the 
Artisans'  Dwellings  Acts,  the  Public  Health  Act,  the  Rating 
Act,  the  Employers'  Liability  Acts,  the  Agricultural  Holdings 
Act,  among  many  others,  attest  the  victory  of  "  popular 
Toryism"  over  "class  Liberalism,"  and  the  protection  of 
suffering  against  selfishness.  "Young  England,"  like  all 
Utopian  propaganda,  was  a  romantic  vision,  and  exceeded 
actuality.  But  in  essence  it  has  been  eminently  practical. 
Classes  (of  which  England  is  made)  are  infinitely  more  in 
communion  than  they  were  in  1840.  The  effort  to  set  them 
by  the  ears  and  to  oppose  the  "  masses  "  to  the  "  classes  "  has 
ignominiously  failed.  The  Church  of  England  has  roused 
itself  to  the  national  needs  beyond  all  comparison  with  those 
days.  The  appeals  of  Sybil,  Coningsby,  and  Tancred,  ridiculed 
as  rodomontade  and  branded  as  a  charlatan's  dodge,  have 
been  rendered  into  action,  and  stand  confessed  as  the  deeply 
felt  and  pondered  schemes  of  a  poet  and  a  statesman, 
"  When,"  says  Bolingbroke,  "  great  coolness  of  judgment  is 
united  to  great  warmth  of  imagination,  we  see  that  happy 
combination  which  we  call  a  genius."  Such  has  proved 
Disraeli,  and  his  inmost  soul  is  embodied  in  that  "Young 
England  "  which  he  organised  and  encouraged  in  a  freezing 
atmosphere.  Over  fifty  years  ago  he  exhorted  youth,  at  the 
Manchester  Athenaeum,  as  "  the  trustees  of  posterity."  "  The 
man,"  he  then  said,  "  who  did  not  look  up  would  look  down, 
and  he  who  did  not  aspire  was  destined  perhaps  to  grovel." 
The  youth  of  to-day  is  far  more  conscious  of  its  burden  than 
was  the  youth  of  any  class  in  the  'forties. 


FREE   TRADE  '  131 

It  was  mainly  on  these  social  grounds  that  Disraeli 
resisted  that  system  of  free  imports  which  has  gone  down  to 
history  as  "  Free  Trade."  He  never  denied  that  it  was  calcu- 
lated to  enrich  manufacturers  and  manufacturing  centres  ;  he 
grew  to  admit  its  benefits  to  the  consumer,  although  these 
were  by  no  means  wholly  due  to  its  action  ;  but  he  depre- 
cated its  "  economic  frenzy."  He  held  that  it  injured  the 
producer^  and  played  havoc  both  with  land  and  distribution 
of  labour.  He  thought  it  would  eventually  impair  morale  and 
physique,  and  sacrifice  the  general  welfare  to  the  material 
interests  of  a  class  ;  and,  before  it  was  nationally  adopted,  he 
considered  that  all  ends  would  have  been  better  served  by 
the  adoption  of  that  system  of  reciprocal  treaties  ^ — on  a 
principle  called  by  him  "  at  once  national  and  cosmopolitan  " 
— which  was  termed  "  Free  Trade  "  in  the  days  of  Pitt, 
and  had  been  inaugurated  in  17 13  by  the  abortive  tariff 
of  the  great  Utrecht  Treaty  ;  nor  will  it  now  be  doubted 
that  if  in  1846  a  comprehensive  scheme  of  technical  educa- 
tion had  been  set  on  foot,  many  of  the  evils  engendered  by 
over-competition  would  have  been  avoided,  whatever  fiscal 
system  this  country  had  chosen. 

Writing  so  early  as  1832  to  the  Wycombe  electors,  he 
even  then  declared :  " .  .  .  With  regard  to  the  Corn  Laws,  I 
will  support  any  change,  the  basis  of  which  is  to  relieve  the 
coftsumer  without  injuring  the  farmer."  This  was  not  the 
"  Radical "  doctrine  of  those  days. 

Disraeli  has  shown  conclusively  that  in  English  history 
such    a   principle    as   absolute   "  protection  "    never   existed. 

'  The  rise  in  wages  and  prices  about  1851  was  mainly  due  not  to 
"  Free  Trade,"  but  to  the  influx  of  newly  discovered  gold.  In  1842, 
when  Peel  was  revising  the  tariff,  bread  was  actually  cheaper  than  it  had 
been  for  many  years  previously,  or  till  1849  afterwards.  In  185 1  corn  had 
sunk  to  about  40i'.,  nearly  8^.  lower  than  Peel  had  contemplated  as 
possible.  The  immediate  results  of  repeal  were  not  the  cheapening 
of  bread ;  but  the  sudden  cheapening  of  commodities  zoas  effected  by 
Peel's  revision  of  the  tariff.  In  185 1,  however,  all  other  agricultural 
produce  but  wheat  was  at  fair  prices,  and  Disraeli  then  wrote,  "  It  is 
possible  that  agriculture  may  flourish  without  a  high  price  of  wheat  or 
without  producing  any"  [Correspojidence,  p.  262). 

2  "...  A  large  system  of  commercial  intercourse  on  the  principle  of 
reciprocal  advantage." 


132  DISRAELI 

The  original  principle  up  to  the  time  of  Anne  was  to  feed 
and  supply  a  population  then  small  enough  so  to  be  supported 
at  home,  and  to  encourage  the  wealth  and  power  of  trade. 
He  has  shown  that  Walpole,  in  this  respect  imitating  the 
rival  whom  he  destroyed,  wisely  followed  this  principle  in  its 
colonial  applications  ;  though  he  unwisely  divorced  productive 
trade  from  the  land,  and  set  the  moneyed  against  the  landed 
classes,  the  high  finance  against  the  country  gentlemen,  into 
whose  shoes,  however,  it  soon  stepped.  He  has  shown  that 
when  the  colonial  system  broke  down  by  the  secession  of 
our  greatest  and  worst  governed  colony,  Pitt  the  Second 
reverted  to  the  old,  the  natural  principle  of  exchange  with 
the  continent  by  tariff.  The  exigencies  of  the  Revolutionary 
and  Napoleonic  wars  forced  an  interlude  ;  and  for  a  time 
England  was  fed  by  foreign  corn  in  free  competition  with 
her  own — the  very  time  when  the  loaf  was  dearest.  But 
Lord  Liverpool  recurred  to  the  principle  ;  and  Peel  up  to 
1845 — when  his  hand  was  confessedly  forced  by  the  appalling 
famine  in  Ireland — was  in  favour  of  the  varying  duties 
termed  the  sliding  scale,  as  opposed  to  the  fixed  duties  of 
the  Whigs  and  the  no-duties  of  the  Radicals.  That  scale 
he  eventually  surrendered  under  the  impulse  of  Lord  John 
Russell's  "  Edinburgh  Letter,"  and  was  suddenly  converted 
by  the  Manchester  School.  In  logic,  and  apart  from 
human  and  national  instincts,  their  theories  were  as  irre- 
fragable as  those  of  our  modern  bimetallists,  and  of  those 
ancient  economists  on  whose  doctrines  they  rested.  But 
their  lasting  usefulness  depended  on  the  final  achievement 
of  a  cosmopolitan  confederation.  Disraeli  presaged  with 
weighty  reasons,  scouted  when  they  were  detailed,  that  other 
nations  would  never  fall  into  the  scheme  ;  he  analysed  the 
special  conditions  of  France,  Germany,  and  America.  He 
also  foretold,  concerning  corn,  in  common  with  all  articles 
of  certain  and  practically  unlimited  demand  (as  cotton  and 
tea,  for  examples),  that  "the  moment  you  have  a  settled 
market,  in  exact  proportion  to  the  demand,  prices  will  fall. 
This  is  the  inevitable  rule."  He  pressed  further  the  grave 
peril,  hardly  yet  realised,  of  England's  dependence  on  foreign 
supplies  in  time  of  war.     But  beyond  all,  he  emphasised  the 


"FREE   TRADE'  133 

social  dangers — the  misery  for  individuals  and  for  classes. 
In  this  precipitate  measure  towards  a  material  class- 
millennium,  he  discerned  a  large  element  of  possible 
denationalisation,  a  displacement  of  labour  which  must  un- 
avoidably deluge  the  unwieldy  towns,  and  which  would  to 
some  extent  relax  the  fibre  of  the  nation  and  weaken  its 
very  means  of  defence,  the  replacement  of  excellence  by 
cheapness,  and  of  national  welfare  by  wealth,  the  substitution 
for  the  landed  interest  which  ought  to  preponderate  though 
never  to  predominate,  not,  as  seemed  for  the  moment,  by  a 
high-toned  class  of  responsible  manufacturers,  but  eventu- 
ally by  an  overwhelming  clique  of  irresponsible  capitalists 
with  self-interests  fluid  as  their  portable  property ;  the 
decrease  of  the  national,  the  natural  sway  of  large  land- 
owners inheriting  a  representative  sense  of  accountability  to 
tenants  and  dependants  ;  a  probably  great  fall  in  agriculture 
and  its  profits,  prices  and  wages  ;  the  waste  on  a  large  scale 
and  the  depopulation  of  the  soil  itself;  the  special  aggrava- 
tion of  ruinous  elements  in  Ireland  ;  an  ultimate  decay,  when 
foreign  competition  should  develop,  of  that  very  manufactur- 
ing interest  the  system  was  protested  to  advantage  and  intended 
to  protect  ;  for  he  divined  already  in  the  'forties  that  to  fight 
hostile  tariffs  with  "  free  imports  "  could  only  benefit  England 
while  continental  manufacturers  were  in  comparative  infancy. 
Most  of  this  in  great  measure  he  foresaw,  and  in  all  this 
has  been  amply  justified.  What  he  did  not  anticipate  was 
the  enormous  stature  which  these  developments  have  now 
reached.  Multitudes  of  telling  instances  might  be  given 
from  those  remarkable  speeches,  the  pith  and  point  of  which 
were  always  how  this  change  would  affect  the  labouring 
classes.  I  will  single  out  two  alone,  and  both  from  that 
great  speech  of  1846  on  Mr.  Miles's  amendment,  which,  in  the 
light  of  the  present,  reads  like  a  continuous  prophecy. 
Speaking  of  the  displacement  of  labour  in  connection  with 
the  then  sparse  distribution  of  the  precious  metals,  which  he 
pointed  out  six  years  later  must  again  modify  the  situation 
owing  to  the  recent  and  immense  discoveries  of  gold,  he  said  : 
"...  Every  year  and  in  every  market  English  labour  will 
receive  less  in  return  of  foreign  articles.     But  gold  and  silver 


134  DISRAELI 

are  foreign  articles  ;  and  in  every  year  and  in  every 
market  English  labour  will  have  less  command  of  gold  and 
silver.  ..."  "...  Supposing  you  import  five  millions  more 
from  Russia  than  you  ever  did  before,  how  will  you  make 
your  payments,  if  they  take  no  more  additional  goods  from 
you  than  they  do  now  .^  .  .  .  I  know  it  will  be  replied  they 
manage  these  things  by  means  of  bills  and  so  on.  But  that 
will  not  improve  the  case.  Suppose  .  .  .  you  buy  Russian 
bills  on  Brazil  and  New  York  to  the  amount  of  those  five 
millions,  and  you  thus  complete  your  transaction.  But  you 
have  already  supplied  the  Americans  and  the  Brazilians  with 
as  much  of  your  goods  as  you  cared  to  take,  and  if  you 
want  to  sell  more  to  them,  you  must  do  so  at  a  great 
sacrifice.  .  .  ." 

Once  more,  as  regards  foreign  competition.  He  fore- 
casted that  of  America  ;  and  in  demolishing  the  argument 
that  Prussia's  protective  Zollverein  was  being  "shaken;" 
he  instanced  Mecklenburg,  induced  by  English  remonstrances 
to  abstain  from  joining,  but  now  complaining  that:  "... 
After  all  the  sacrifices  we  have  made,  if  the  Zollverein  are 
to  have  free  importation  to  England,  we  have  no  advantage 
whatever,  and  the  best  thing  we  can  now  do  is  to  join  and  .  .  . 
advance  the  cause  of  native  industry." 

Disraeli  resolved  that  if  the  repeal  became  law,  the  burdens 
which  had  been  thrown  on  the  land,  because  of  the  privileges 
which  were  its  ancient  trust,  should  in  fairness  be  mitigated  ; 
that  it  should  compete  as  freely  as  other  manufacturers,  for 
he  never  ceased  to  object  to  a  distinction,  as  manufacturers, 
between  the  farmer,  the  miller,  and  the  mill-owner. 

"...  I  know,"  he  urged  in  a  speech  full  of  dignity  and 
wisdom,  "  that  we  have  been  told  that  .  .  .  we  shall  derive 
from  this  great  struggle  not  merely  the  repeal  of  the  Corn 
Laws,  but  the  transfer  of  power  from  one  class  to  another, 
to  one  distinguished  for  its  intelligence  and  wealth — the 
manufacturers  of  England.  My  conscience  assures  me  that 
I  have  not  been  slow  in  doing  justice  to  the  intelligence  of 
that  class  ;  certain  I  am  that  I  am  not  one  of  those  who 
envy  them  their  wide  and  deserved  prosperity  ;  but  I  must 
confess  my  deep   mortification   that  in    an    age  of   political 


"FREE   TRADE"  135 

regeneration,  when  all  social  evils  are  ascribed  to  the  opera- 
tion of  class  interests,  it  should  be  suggested  that  we  are  to 
be  rescued  from  the  alleged  power  of  one  class,  only  to  sink 
under  the  avowed  dominion  of  another  ; "  and  he  concluded 
with  the  hope  that  if  the  monarchy  of  England,  "  mitigated 
by  the  acknowledged  authority  of  the  estates  of  the  realm," 
was  to  prove  "  a  worn-out  dream,"  if  England  was  to  sink 
"  under  the  thraldom  of  capital,  ...  of  those  who  while  they 
boast  of  their  intelligence  are  prouder  of  their  wealth,"  if  a 
new  force  must  be  summoned  to  maintain  "  the  immemorial 
monarchy  of  England,  that  "  novel  power  "  might  be  found 
in  "the  invigorating  energies  of  an  educated  and  enfranchised 
people." 

All  this  has  happened.  A  thraldom  to  the  middle  class 
came  into  being,  and  was  tempered  by  Disraeli's  own  franchise 
bill,  and  by  an  education  act  sufficient,  though  not  conceived  in 
the  decentralised  form  which  Disraeli  desired,  but  never  won 
the  opportunity  of  effecting.  And  out  of  this  thraldom  is 
springing  that  other  of  plutocracy — one  which  exercises  great 
political  power  without  assuming  great  political  duties  ;  one 
in  the  interest  of  which,  it  seems  to  me,  some  of  the  new  fiscal 
changes  now  being  mooted  are  designed. 

These  wholesale  changes  I  cannot  but  feel  that  Disraeli 
would  have  withstood.  Many  features  in  Mr.  Chamberlain's 
plan  would  have  enlisted  his  sympathy,  but  in  their  entirety 
he  would  have  thought  them  hazardous.  Some  protection 
for  the  grazier  he  might  have  upheld  ;  he  always  laid  stress 
on  the  importance  of  home  markets.  A  moderate  duty  on 
corn,  in  partial,  though  most  inadequate,  aid  of  agriculture, 
he  might  have  favoured  as  a  necessary  lever  for  colonial 
reciprocity  ;  especially  as  it  would  be  spread  over  the  untaxed 
colonial,  the  foreign  dutiable  imports.  It  would  scarcely 
much  affect  the  price  of  bread,  and  the  very  Peelites  fore- 
went the  fallacy  of  the  dear  loaf;  although,  as  in  1852,  he 
would  show  that  even  a  four  shilling  duty  on  imported  corn 
could  never  restore  the  land  to  its  former  footing,  "  We 
ought,"  he  would  again  argue,  "  to  go  to  the  country  on 
principle,  and  not  upon  details.  We  say  we  think  there 
should  be  measures  brought  forward "   (as  since  have  been 


136  DISRAELI 

brought  forward)  "to  put  the  cultivators  of  the  soil  in  a 
position  to  allow  them  to  compete  with  foreign  industry." 
What,  however,  he  then  urged  with  all  his  force  was  that  the 
fiscal  revolution  had  confessedly  caused  vexatious  taxes. 
"Sir,"  he  said  in  ICS52,  "  I  do  now  and  ever  shall  look  on  the 
changes  which  took  place  in  1846,  both  as  regards  the  repeal 
of  the  Corn  Laws  and  the  alteration  of  the  Sugar  Duties, 
as  totally  unauthorised.  I  opposed  them  .  .  .  from  an  appre- 
hension of  the  great  suffering  ivhich  must  be  incurred  by  such 
a  change.  That  suffering  in  a  great  degree,  though  it  may 
be  limited  to  particular  classes,  has  in  some  instances  been 
even  severer  than  we  anticipated.  But  I  deny  that  at  any 
time  after  those  laws  were  passed,  either  I,  or  the  bulk  of 
those  with  whom  I  have  the  honour  to  act,  have  ever  main- 
tained a  recurrence  to  the  same  laws  that  regulated  those 
industries  previously  to  1846."  He  then  showed  the  differ- 
ence between  Lord  Derby's  proposed  "  fixed  duty  "  and  the 
old  state  of  affairs  ;  while  he  continued  :  "  .  .  .  When  we  come 
to  this  question  of  fixed  duty,  ...  I  must  say  now  what  I 
said  before  in  this  House,  that  I  will  not  pin  my  political 
career  on  any  policy  which  is  not  after  all  a  principle,  but 
a  measure.  Our  wish  is,  that  the  interests  which  we  believe 
were  unjustly  treated  in  1846,^  should  receive  the  justice 
which  they  deserve,  with  as  little  injury  to  those  who  may 
have  benefited  more  than  they  were  entitled  to,  as  it  is 
possible  for  human  wisdom  to  devise.  Sir,  I  call  that  recon- 
ciling the  interests  of  the  consumer  and  the  producer,  when  you 
do  not  permit  the  consumer  to  flourish  by  placing  unjust  taxes 
upon  tJte  producer  ,•  while  at  the  same  time  you  resort  to  no  tax 
ivhich  gives  to  the  producer  ;  an  unjust  and  artificial  price  for 
Jiis  production.  .  .  ." 

But  any  prohibitive  tax  on  foreign  manufactures — that  is 
another  matter,  one  which  would  protect  certain  trades  at  the 

'  The  land  was  promised  compensation,  but  received  none  worth  the 
name.  It  was  deUided  by  vague  promises  of  actual  benefit  under  the  new 
system.  Peel  even  asserted  that  corn  would  never  fall  under  forty-eight 
shillings  per  quarter. 

It  is  often  forgotten  that  in  1843  Peel  favoured  a  preferential  tariff  for 
Canada,  and  that  both  he  and  Gladstone  were  then  for  Canadian  "  re- 
taliation" on  America. 


"FREE   TRADE"  137 

expense  of  the  community,  and  aggravate  the  very  evils  which 
Free  Trade  introduced.  Such  a  system  must  press  all  the 
harder  on  that  class  of  consumers  whose  pay  would  remain 
unaffected  by  its  results,  and  who  would,  in  fact,  be  subsidising 
our  colonies  out  of  their  emptied  pockets.  The  sentiment  of 
the  colonies  he  would  have  prized  beyond  measure,  but 
other  means  for  riveting  it  might  be  found  ;  and  in  the 
undeveloped  condition  of  many  among  them,  would  not  a 
Canadian  favouritism  sow  a  harvest  of  jealousies  }  Moreover, 
the  colonial  population  as  a  whole  is  still  far  too  scanty  for 
the  replacement  of  our  markets  abroad  ;  and  further,  the  two 
main  channels  of  cheap  capital  and  British  prosperity — our 
carrying  trade  and  London's  commercial  position  as  the  clear- 
ing-house of  the  world — might  be  revolutionised  by  changes, 
to  which  no  limit  could  be  fixed.  And  again,  the  remission 
of  Income  Tax  ought  in  justice  to  accompany  such  a  system, 
for  that  tax  was  revived  by  Peel  expressly  because  the 
revenue  had  to  be  reimbursed  for  its  losses  on  adopting  the 
measures  for  free  imports.  With  respect  to  "  dumping,"  ^  its 
conditions  contain  its  cure.  England,  no  longer  the  main 
workshop  of  the  world,  cannot  perhaps  be  so  generous  as 
heretofore,  but  she  can  still  afford  to  be  generous.  As  for 
the  promise  of  higher  wages  through  protective  duties,  wages 
are  more  likely  to  rise  through  the  resumption  of  gold  imports 
from  South  Africa  ;  while  the  joint  result  of  retaliatory  tariffs 
and  such  imports  would  be  doubly  to  enhance  the  price  of 
commodities  for  the  mass.  On  the  other  hand,  the  vision  of 
a  self-supporting  empire  he  would  honour,  and  equally  the 
sincere  and  commanding  zeal  of  its  prophet.  But  he  would 
surely  argue  that  the  times  were  far  from  ripe,  and  that 
small  and  gradual  beginnings  might  lay  firmer  foundations 
than  a  colossal  combination  of  incompatibles.  Again,  he 
would,  as  the  writer  fancies,  deplore  a  loud  and  unsolicited 
appeal  to  the  passions  of  a  multitude  and  the  greed  of  a  class 
easily  thus  led  into  a  lordship  of  mob  despotism.  At  the 
same  time,  he  would  certainly  recognise,  as  Mr.  Chamberlain 

'  It  is  only  the  old  evil  of  over-production  and  "  glut  in  the  market.' 
While  England  was  still  the  main  manufacturer  and  exporter,  she  herself 
periodically  "  dumped,"  and  suffered  from  the  process. 


138  DISRAELI 

alone  has  fully  recognised,  the  crying  need  for  a  better  dis- 
tribution of  employment. 

Disraeli  over  and  over  again  affirmed  that  since  the  nation 
had  endorsed  this  vital  change,  its  reversal  was  impracti- 
cable unless  the  considered  national  demand  for  it  became 
overwhelming.  It  was  one  of  his  cardinal  ideas  that  without 
such  deliberate  demand  no  great  change  of  national  policy 
should  be  risked  in  any  department.  In  1852,  he  and 
Lord  Derby  appealed  to  the  country  on  a  modified  issue  of 
this  question — that  of  a  fixed  duty.  The  country's  answer 
Disraeli  considered  as  final,  even  in  that  regard  ;  nor,  so  far 
as  he  was  able,  would  he  ever  permit  these  momentous  issues 
to  be  reopened  by  any  party  or  section.  He  remained 
devoted  to  the  reciprocity  principle.  He  believed  that  "give 
and  take  "  is  the  foundation  of  trade  which  is  barter.  But, 
though  he  descried  rocks  ahead  in  the  future,  he  recognised 
that  the  consumer  had  benefited  by  the  free  opening  of  our 
ports,  that  so  far  as  material  wealth  was  concerned,  England 
had  become  the  emporium  and  the  banker  of  the  world.  On 
the  other  hand,  this  very  prosperity  had  aggravated  the 
misery  of  a  class  and  had  raised  those  problems  which  are 
still  engaging  anxious  attention.  Utilitarianism,  the  "cheapest 
market "  theory,  had  triumphed  in  the  establishment  of  unre- 
stricted competition,  but  the  upshot  of  that  competition 
was  an  increasing  strain  and  disorganisation  of  native  labour. 
With  these  evils  he  left  the  quickened  spirit  of  "Young 
England  "  to  cope  ;  while  he  himself  strove  to  meet  them  by 
the  remission  of  the  now  unjust  burdens  laid  on  the  land,  his 
industrial  franchise  bill,  and  his  cherished  policy  of  sanitas 
sanitattmi.  He  had,  at  any  rate,  largely  influenced  the  opinion 
of  his  generation  in  bringing  home  to  men's  minds  and  con- 
sciences the  equality  of  the  rights  of  Labour  with  those  of 
property,  and  the  adequacy  of  constitutional  forms  to  enforce 
them  ;  nor  did  he  ever  cease  to  press  them  in  his  writings 
and  speeches.  But  as  a  statesman  he  had  always  to  choose 
between  evils  ;  and  of  these  a  forced  disturbance  of  a  nation- 
ally adopted  system,  which  by  hasty  expedients  might  tend 
to  disorder  and  to  dispersal,  he  ever  considered  the  graver. 
To  experiment  he  always  opposed  experience. 


"FREE   TRADE  "  139 

Speaking  only  two  years  before  his  death,  he  said — 
"  So  far  as  I  understand  .  .  .  reciprocity  is  barter.  I 
have  always  understood  that  barter  was  the  first  evidence  of 
civilisation  ^ — that  it  was  exactly  the  state  of  human  exchange 
that  separated  civilisation  from  savagery.  .  .  .  My  noble 
friend  (Lord  Batcman)  read  some  extracts,  .  .  .  and  he 
honoured  me  by  reading  an  extract  from  the  speech  I  then 
made  in  the  other  House  of  Parliament.  That  was  a  speech 
in  favour  of  reciprocity — a  speech  which  defined  what  was 
then  thought  to  be  reciprocity,  and  indicated  the  means  by 
which  reciprocity  could  be  obtained.  I  do  not  want  to  enter 
into  the  discussion  whether  the  principle  was  right  or  wrong, 
but  it  was  acknowledged  in  public  life,  favoured  and  pursued 
by  many  statesmen  who  conceived  that  by  the  negotiation  of 
a  treaty  of  commerce,  by  reciprocal  exchange  and  the  lower- 
ing of  duties,  the  products  of  the  two  negotiating  countries 
would  find  a  freer  access  and  consumption  in  the  two 
countries  than  they  formerly  possessed.  But  when  my  noble 
friend  taunts  me  with  a  quotation  of  some  rusty  phrase 
of  mine  forty  years  ago,  I  must  remind  him  that  we  had 
ekinents  then  07i  ivhich  treaties  of  reciprocity  could  be  negotiated. 
At  that  time,  although  the  great  changes  of  Sir  Robert  Peel 
had  taken  place,  there  were  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight 
articles  in  the  tariff  which  were  materials  by  which  you 
could  have  negotiated,  if  that  was  a  wise  and  desirable 
policy,  commercial  treaties  of  reciprocity.  What  is  the 
number  you  now  have  in  the  tariff.''  Twenty-two.  Those 
who  talk  of  negotiating  treaties  of  reciprocity — have  they 
the  materials  .'*...  You  have  lost  the  opportunity.  .  .  .  The 
policy  which  was  long  ago  abandoned,  you  cannot  nozv  resume. 
You  have  at  this  moment  a  great  number  of  commercial 
treaties  .  .  .  nearly  forty,  with  some  of  the  most  considerable 
countries  in  the  world  ...  in  which  'the  most-favoured- 
nation '  clause  is  included.  Well,  suppose  you  are  for  a  system 
of  reciprocity  as  my  noble  friend  proposes.  He  enters  into 
negotiations  with  a  state  ;  he  says  :  '  You  complain  of  our 
high  duties  on  some  particular  articles.  We  have  not  many, 
we  have  a  few  left ;  we  shall  make  some  great  sacrifice  to 
^  A  satirical  passage  in  his  very  early  Popaidlla  may  be  compared. 


I40  DISRAELI 

induce  you  to  enter  into  a  treaty  for  an  exchange  of  pro- 
ducts.' But  the  moment  yon  contemplate  agreeing  ivith  t/ie 
state,  .  .  .  every  other  of  the  forty  states  zvith  '  the  most- 
favoured-nation '  clause  claims  exactly  the  same  privilege.  The 
fact  is,  practically  speaking,  reciprocity,  ivhatever  its  merits,  is 
dead.  .  .  .  The  opportunity,  like  the  means,  has  been  rehn- 
quished  ;  and  if  this  is  the  only  mode  in  which  we  are  to 
extricate  ourselves  from  the  great  distress  which  prevails, 
our  situation  is  hopeless.  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  say, 
whatever  the  condition  of  the  country,  its  condition  is 
hopeless.  .  .  ." 

"  I  cannot  for  a  moment  doubt  that  the  repeal  of  the  Corn 
Laws — on  the  policy  of  which  I  do  not  enter — has  materially 
afifected  the  condition  of  those  who  are  interested  in  land. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  is  the  only  cause  of  landed 
distress.  There  are  other  reasons — general  distress,  the 
metallic  changes,^  have  all  had  an  effect.  But  I  cannot  shut 
my  eyes  to  the  conviction  that  the  termination  of  protection  to  the 
landed  interest  has  materially  tended  to  the  conditiofi  in  which 
it  finds  itself.  But  that  is  no  reason  ivhy  ive  should  retrace  our 
steps,  and  authorise  and  sanction  any  violent  changes.  This 
state  of  things  is  one  which  has  long  threatened.  ...  It  has 
arrived.  ...  I  cannot  give  up  the  expectation  that  the  energy 
of  this  country  will  bring  about  a  condition  of  affairs  more 
favourable  to  the  various  classes  which  form  the  great  landed 
interest  of  this  country.  I  should  look  upon  it  as  a  great 
misfortune  to  this  country  that  the  character,  and  power,  and 
influence  of  the  landed  interest  and  its  valuable  industry, 
should  be  diminished,  and  should  experience  anything  like  a 
fatal  and  a  final  blow.  It  would,  in  my  opinion,  be  a  mis- 
fortune, not  to  this  country  alone,  but  to  the  \Nor\d,  for  it  has 
contributed  to  the  spirit  of  liberty  and  order  more  than  any  other 
class  that  has  existed  in  modern  times.  .  .  .  But  ...  I  cannot 
support  my  noble  friend  when  he  asks  us  to  pass  resolutions 
of  this  great  character,  and  when  he  himself  disclaims  the 
very  ground  {i.e.  protection)  on  which  he  might  have  framed, 

^  These  he  had  long  before  predicted,  and  his  forecast  that  they 
would  cause  some  of  the  prosperity  of  manufacture,  apart  from  "  Free 
Trade,"  has  come  true. 


''FREE   TRADE"  141 

not  what  I  think  was  a  correct,  but  a  plausible  case.  It  is  a 
very  innvise  course,  in  my  opinion,  when  the  country  is  not  in  a 
state  so  satisfactory  as  ive  could  ivish  .  .  .  to  propose  any  in- 
quiry tvhich  has  not  either  some  definite  object,  or  is  likely  to 
lead  to  some  action  on  the  part  of  those  ivho  bring  it  forivard. 
It  would  lead  to  great  disappointment  and  uneasiness  on  the 
part  of  the  country  ;  and  the  classes  who  are  trying  to  realise 
the  exact  difficulties  they  have  to  encounter  .  .  .  zi'ould 
relapse  into  a  lax  state  ivhich  might  render  them  incapable  of 
making  the  exertiojis  it  is  necessary  for  them  to  make.  .  .  . 
Looking  into  the  state  of  the  country,  I  do  not  see  there  is 
any  great  mystery  in  the  causes  which  have  produced  a  state 
of  which  there  is  undoubted  general  complaint.  What  has 
happened  in  our  own  commercial  failures  during  the  last  ten 
years  will  explain  it.  The  great  collapse  which  naturally 
followed  the  convulsion  of  prosperity  which  seemed  to  deluge 
the  world  and  not  merely  this  country — the  fact  that  other 
countries  have  been  placed  in  an  equally  disagreeable  situa- 
tion .  .  .  these  are  circumstances  which  appear  to  me  to 
render  it  quite  unnecessary  to  enter  into  an  inquiry  on  this 
subject.  ...  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  are  not 
moments  .  .  .  in  which  an  inquiry  by  Parliament  .  .  .  into 
the  causes  of  national  distress  may  not  be  allowable— may 
not  be  necessary  ;  but  it  must  be  a  distress  of  a  very  different 
kind  from  that  which  we  are  now  experiencing.  We  must 
have  the  consciousness  that  the  great  body  of  the  people  are 
in  a  situation  intolerable  to  them.  .  .  ." 

Compare  with  this  that  passage  from  his  late  Endymion — 
a  novel  of  memories — where  "  Job  Thornberry  "  (John  Bright) 
discusses  this  very  problem  with  the  hero. 

"  ' .  .  .  But,  after  all,'  said  Endymion,  'America  is  as  little 
in  favour  of  free  exchange  as  we  are.  She  may  send  us  her 
bread-stuffs,  but  her  laws  will  not  admit  our  goods,  except  on 
the  payment  of  enormous  duties.' 

" '  Pish  !  '  said  Thornberry.  '  I  do  not  care  this  for  their 
enormous  duties.  Let  me  have  free  imports,  and  I  will  soon 
settle  their  duties,' 

"  '  To  fight  hostile  tariffs  with  free  imports,'  said  Endy- 
mion, '  Is  not  that  fighting  against  odds  ? ' 


142  DISRAELI 

"  '  Not  a  bit.  This  country  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  con- 
sider its  imports.  Foreigners  will  not  give  us  their  products 
for  nothing  ;  but  as  for  their  tariffs,  if  wc  were  wise  men, 
and  looked  to  our  real  interests,  their  hostile  tariffs,  as  you 
call  them,  would  soon  be  falling  down  like  an  old  wall.' 

" '  Well,  I  confess,'  said  luidymion,  '  I  have  for  some  time 
thought  the  principle  of  free  exchange  was  a  sound  one  ;  but 
its  application  in  a  country  like  this  would  be  very  difficult, 
and  require,  I  should  think,  great  prudence  and  moderation.' 

" ' .  .  .  Ignorance  and  timidity,'  said  Thornbcrrj'',  scorn- 
fully. 

"  '  Not  exactly  that,  I  hope,'  said  Endymion  ;  '  but  you 
cannot  deny  that  the  home  market  is  a  most  important  element 
in  the  consideration  of  onr  public  wealth,  and  it  mainly  rests 
on  the  agriculture  of  the  country!  " 

To  which  "  Thornberry  "  retorts  that  "  England  is  to  be 
ruined  to  keep  up  rents." 

At  all  events,  it  is  here,  as  elsewhere,  evident  what  led 
Disraeli  to  oppose  the  introduction  of  unregulated  competition. 
Things  have  long  since  marched  quickly.  The  wall  of  tariffs 
has  not  tottered  ;  Disraeli  never  imagined  that  it  would. 
"  Foreigners  "  now  do  sometimes  "  give  us  their  products  for 
nothing "  through  those  colossal  "  Trusts  "  that  make  enor- 
mous profits  at  home  to  undersell  us  at  a  loss  and  capture  our 
markets  abroad.  Competition  has  been  reduced  to  the 
absurd.  Nor  is  the  Continent  in  that  plight  which  marked 
it  when  Disraeli  uttered  the  speech  above  cited.  All  these 
changed  conditions  require  changing  remedies,  but  the  heroic 
remedy  lately  advocated  may  well  occasion  thoughtful  retro- 
spect, and  the  speech  I  have  chosen  may  be  profitably 
pondered  in  this  connection. 

And  can  any  reader  of  his  utterances  doubt  that,  had  he 
lived,  he  would  never  have  left  the  problem  of  the  housing  of 
the  poor  to  private  experiment,  or  merely  municipal  omni- 
science ?     Thirty-three  years  ago  he  wrote  as  follows  : — 

"  It  is  the  terror  of  Europe  and  the  disgrace  of  Britain," 
says  "  Lothair "  of  pauperism  ;  "  and  I  am  resolved  to 
grapple  with  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  pauperism  is  not  so 
much  an  affair  of  wages  as   of  dwellings.     If  the   working 


LABOUR  143 

classes  were  properly  lodged,  at  their  present  rate  of  wages, 
they  would  be  richer.  They  would  be  healthier  and  happier 
at  the  same  cost.  .  .  ." 

I  will  conclude  with  an  excerpt  from  Disraeli's  great 
Crystal  Palace  speech  of  1872.  It  concerns  the  remedies 
which  he  had  from  the  first  determined  to  apply  to  a  state  of 
things  which  the  rush  of  so-called  "  progress  "  had  induced. 

"...  It  must  be  obvious  to  all  who  consider  the  condition 
of  the  multitude  with  a  desire  to  improve  and  elevate  it,  that 
no  important  step  can  be  gained  unless  you  can  effect  some 
reduction  of  their  hours  of  labour  and  humanise  their  toil. 
The  great  problem  is  to  be  able  to  achieve  such  results  with- 
out violating  those  principles  of  economic  truth  upon  which 
the  prosperity  of  all  States  depends.  You  recollect  that  many 
years  ago  the  Tory  party  believed  that  these  two  results  might 
be  obtained  .  .  .  and  at  the  same  time  no  injury  be  inflicted 
on  the  wealth  of  the  nation.  You  know  how  that  effort 
was  encountered,  how  these  views  and  principles  were  met  by 
the  triumphant  statesmen  of  Liberalism.  They  told  you  that 
the  inevitable  consequence  of  your  policy  was  to  diminish 
capital  ;  and  this,  again,  would  lead  to  the  lowering  of  wages, 
to  a  great  diminution  of  the  employment  of  the  people,  and 
ultimately  to  the  impoverishment  of  the  kingdom.  .  .  .  And 
what  has  been  the  result  ?  Those  measures  were  carried  ;  but 
carried,  as  I  can  bear  witness,  with  great  difficulty  and  after 
much  labour  and  a  long  struggle.  Yet  they  were  carried  ; 
and  what  do  we  now  find  .-*  That  capital  was  never  accumu- 
lated so  quickly ;  that  wages  were  never  higher  ;  that  the 
employment  of  the  people  was  never  greater,  and  the  country 
never  wealthier.  I  ventured  to  say  a  short  time  ago  {at 
Manchester)  that  the  health  of  the  people  was  the  most  im- 
portant subject  for  a  statesman.  It  is  ...  a  large  subject. 
It  has  many  branches.  It  involves  the  state  of  the  dwellings 
of  the  people,  the  moral  consequences  of  which  are  not  less 
considerable  than  the  physical.  It  involves  their  enjoyment 
of  some  of  the  chief  elements  of  nature — air,  light,  and 
water.  It  involves  the  regulation  of  their  industry,  the  inspec- 
tion of  their  toil.  It  involves  the  purity  of  their  provisions, 
and  it  touches  upon  all  the  means  by  which  you  may  wean 


144  DISRAELI 

them  from  habits  of  excess  and  brutality.  .  .  .  Well,  it  may 
be  the  '  policy  of  sewage '  to  a  Liberal  member  of  Parliament. 
But  to  one  of  the  labouring  multitude  of  England,  who  has 
found  fever  always  to  be  one  of  the  inmates  of  his  household 
— who  has,  year  after  year,  seen  stricken  down  the  children  of 
his  loins,  on  whose  sympathy  and  support  he  has  looked  with 
hope  and  confidence  ;  it  is  not  'a  policy  of  sewage,'  but  a 
question  of  life  and  death.  And  I  can  tell  you  this,  gentle- 
men, from  personal  conversation  with  some  of  the  most 
intelligent  of  the  labouring  class,  that  .  .  .  the  hereditary,  the 
traditionary  policy  of  the  Tory  party  that  would  improve  the 
condition  of  the  people,  is  more  appreciated  by  the  people 
than  the  ineffable  mysteries  and  all  the  pains  and  penalties 
of  the  Ballot  Bill.  ...  Is  that  wonderful  >  Consider  the 
condition  of  the  great  body  of  the  working  classes  of  this 
country.  They  are  in  possession  of  personal  privileges — 
of  personal  rights  and  liberties — which  are  not  enjoyed  by  the 
aristocracies  of  other  countries.  Recently  they  have  obtained 
— and  wisely  obtained — a  great  extension  of  political  rights  ; 
and  when  the  people  of  England  see  that  under  the  Constitu- 
tion of  this  country  .  .  .  they  possess  every  personal  right  of 
freedom,  and  according  to  the  conviction  of  the  whole  country, 
also  an  adequate  concession  of  political  rights,  is  it  at  all 
wonderful  that  they  should  wish  to  elevate  and  improve  their 
condition,  and  is  it  unreasonable  that  they  should  ask  the 
Legislature  to  assist  them  in  that  behest,  as  far  as  it  is  con- 
sistent with  the  general  welfare  of  the  realm  } .  .  ." 

The  crucial  problem  still  exacts,  though  it  need  not  baffle, 
solution.  We  are  still  waiting  for  the  complete  answer  to  the 
question  here  propounded  by  Disraeli. 


CHAPTER  IV 

CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY 

THE  equality  of  man,"  exclaims  Disraeli  in  Tancred, 
"can  only  be  accomplished  by  the  sovereignty  of 
God.  The  longing  for  fraternity  can  never  be 
satisfied  but  under  the  sway  of  a  common 
Father  .  .  .  announce  the  sublime  and  solacing  principle 
of  theocratic  equality." 

This  is  a  Semitic  idea  ;  but,  then,  so  is  the  Church.  The 
State,  on  the  other  hand,  is  an  Aryan  conception.  The  real 
religion  both  of  Athens  and  of  Rome  was  the  State,  These 
radical  ideas  of  Church  and  State,  to  which  we  have  grown 
so  accustomed,  are,  in  fact,  the  products  of  special  races  and 
the  salvage  of  the  centuries.  The  Romans  invented 
"Empire,"  the  Athenians  "Democracy,"  the  Jews  created 
"  Theocracy." 

It  may  be  interesting  to  inquire  how  this  idea  of  a  spiri- 
tual Church  —  a  colony  from  the  unseen  and  eternal — has 
been  in  constant  conflict  with  that  other  dominant  idea  of 
the  State;  and  how,  among  the  nations,  England  alone 
has  made  any  serious  or  successful  attempt  to  reconcile 
them.  For  these  are  the  ideas,  expressed  or  implied,  of 
Disraeli.  I  take  the  liberty  of  illustrating  these  ideas  afresh 
in  my  own  manner,  and  in  continuous  commentary,  rather 
than  by  considering  isolated  passages  scattered  through  his 
books  and  speeches,  many  of  which  I  shall  quote  later  on. 
And  the  standpoint  marked  by  the  title  of  this  chapter  is  the 
point  of  view  which  seems  to  me  to  distinguish  the  many 
varieties  of  the  theme  which  he  presents,  and  which  evidently 
fascinated  him. 

A  national  Theocracy  has  always  been  rejected  in  the 
L  145 


146  DISRAELI 

West.  The  Roman  Church,  whose  ideal  is  an  international 
Theocracy  under  an  imperial  form,  is  in  essence  anti-national 
and  cosmopolitan  ;  and  for  this  very  reason  it  became  repug- 
nant to  those  Northern  races  whose  genius  makes  for 
nationality  and  independence.  Moreover,  it  is  unable  itself 
to  flourish  without  the  temporal  appanage  of  a  State ;  and 
it  therefore  tends  to  become  an  iinperiiim  in  imperio.  On 
Western  soil  religion  is  unable  to  thrive  as  a  living  force 
unless  aided  by  the  equipments  of  the  State,  which  the 
instinct  of  the  West  evolved,  and  to  which  it  is  prone  ;  while 
a  non-organised,  inorganic  creed  can  no  more  make  a 
Church,  which  is  a  society  of  believers,  than  a  paper 
constitution  can  make  a  state,  which  is  the  community 
individualised. 

A  tiational  Theocracy  failed  also  in  the  East  because  the 
faculty  for  creating  a  State  was  deficient.  When  once 
Theocracy,  pure  and  simple,  vanished  from  Palestine — "  the 
fatherland  of  the  Spirit " — Israel  and  Judah  were  confronted 
by  their  inherent  inability  to  found  a  State.  It  was  this, 
indeed,  which  gave  rise  to  the  Messianic  hope,  a  hope  which 
yielded  to  daily  motherhood  the  consecration  of  divine 
destiny.  For  to  lend  an  effective  earthly  sanction  to  the 
theocratic  ideal,  to  reconcile  without  violence  the  govern- 
ment of  a  community  under  the  Eternal  and  Invisible  with 
the  progress  of  a  community  under  a  visible  chieftain,  a 
perfect  monarch,  the  founder  of  a  golden  age,  was  required — 
a  theocrat  king.  The  Jewish  polity  was  a  Church.  All 
European  churches,  on  the  contrary,  are  polities.  This  is 
well  recognised  by  Professor  Ewald,^  who  proves  that  the 
State,  as  such,  took  no  root  and  found  no  real  place  in 
Palestine.  The  tentatives  towards  a  State  conflicted  with 
the  native  theocratic  ideals  of  race  aspiration,  and  failed  to 
survive  them.  And  when  at  length  the  Incarnation  displayed 
the  "  Perfect  King,"  whose  "  kingdom  was  not  of  this  world," 
but  "  within  you,"  and  whose  Kingship  was  "  without  obser- 
vation," it  was  the  very  anti-nationalism  of  His  teaching  at  a 
period  when  Rome  had  tinged  Palestine  with  Western  politics 
that  perplexed  or  offended  a  perverse  caste  of  fanatics  athirst 
1  •'  History  of  Israel,"  vol.  iv.  p.  286. 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         147 

for  national  unity,  although  national  independence  had 
crumbled  away.  When,  once  more,  the  Apostle  to  the  Gen- 
tiles laid  the  Pauline  foundations  of  an  international  Christian 
Church,  the  Jewish  nationalism,  despite  the  sublime  pro- 
phecies of  Isaiah,  grew  doubly  embittered,  and  closed  its 
ears  to  that  theocratic  message,  which  was,  in  fact,  the  fulfil- 
ment of  its  highest  aspirations. 

For  the  ideal  of  the  early  Christian  Church  was  un- 
doubtedly an  international  Theocracy.  On  this  very  account 
it  disgusted  the  Roman  patriotism  which  despised  it.  But 
directly  it  became  acclimatised  in  the  West,  and  prevailed,  it 
also  underwent  that  modification  of  theocratic  ideals  which 
the  West  always  entails.  It  threw  itself  into  the  mould  of 
the  State.  It  assumed  the  purple  of  the  Caesars  ;  it  "  sent 
forth  its  dogmas  like  legions  into  the  Provinces." 

This  only  happens  in  Europe  ;  in  the  East  religions  are 
never  politicised.  The  West  seeks  the  tangible  and  turns  to 
myth  the  wonders  that  are  literal  to  the  Eastern  mind.  In 
so  far  as  the  old  Egyptian  belief  was  in  the  priestly  power,  it 
may  perhaps  be  termed  oligarchical,  but  not  in  the  Western 
sense.  The  Church  of  Buddha  is  a  spiritual  brotherhood, 
never  a  State.  Islam,  like  that  from  which  it  sprang,  is 
a  Theocracy  without  any  inherent  organisation.  Like  it,  it 
eventually  chose  a  monarchical  headship  ;  and,  like  it  too,  its 
monarchy  came  to  be  cleft  in  twain.  It  is,  I  repeat,  only  in 
the  West  that  creeds  are  politicised.  As  the  earthly  sanc- 
tions for  Christianity  coarsened  through  the  centuries,  it 
became  at  once  Caesarian  and  cosmopolitan.  But  the  warfare 
between  the  so-called  secular  and  spiritual  powers,  which, 
indeed,  forms  the  history  of  the  earliest  Middle  Ages,  soon 
began  to  impair  its  birthright  of  cosmopolitanism.  The 
invincible  bias  towards  nationality  of  the  Northern  races 
asserted  itself 

Dante,  it  is  true,  dreamed  of  a  real  Theocracy.  But  he 
was  a  strong  champion  of  a  monarchical  State.  He  staked 
his  hopes  on  that  great  Emperor— that  "patriot  king"— 
whose  premature  death  dashed  his  vision  to  the  ground. 
And  after  Dante,  Savonarola  craved  a  real  Theocracy  ;  but 
it  again  assumed  that  Republican  shape  which,  two  centuries 


148  DISRAELI 

later,  was  to  play  a  greater,  though  as  futile,  a  part  in 
England.  The  Church  one  way  or  another  throughout 
Europe  perpetually  tended  towards  becoming  "  a  State  within 
the  State,"  a  "  King  of  kings  ; "  and  in  this  regard  it  is  not 
a  little  curious  that  the  present  Oratorians  still  obey  the 
antique  Florentine  Constitution  which  St.  Philip  of  Neri 
transcribed  and  embalmed  as  the  rule  of  his  order.  In  the 
same  way  the  early  American  Episcopalians  brought  with 
them,  in  their  three-yearly  Conventions,  that  Triennial  Parlia- 
ment which  William  of  Orange  grudgingly  granted  to  the 
Tories,  and  which  Walpole  was  afterwards  to  repeal  for  the 
Whigs.  Once  more,  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  brought  the  ideal 
of  Republican  forms  to  America  ;  but  Republican  forms  soon 
passed  into  democratic  facts.  From  Jemima  Wilkinson  to 
Mormonism  and  Christian  science,  sects  and  sectaries  have 
abounded.  No  religious  vagary  has  lacked  its  audience  and 
its  franchise.  America  exemplifies  the  disadvantage  of  lack- 
ing a  national  comprehensive  Church  in  a  country  whose 
aspirations  are  national.  Early  in  the  seventeenth  century 
the  Presbyterians  persecuted  the  Quaker  immigrants  with 
a  ferocity  of  which  Torquemada  might  have  been  proud  ;  but 
in  their  turn  the  American  Presbyterians  eventually  fell  a 
prey  to  their  own  factions.  While  she  was  still  a  British 
colony,  England  unwisely  forced  on  America  bishops  con- 
secrated at  home ;  but  these  very  bishops  were  them- 
selves rejected  admittance  by  persecuting  Presbyterians, 
who  regarded  Episcopalians  as  Jacobites,  and  taunted 
them  as  Papists.  It  was  the  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gospel  that  persistently  sought  to  remedy  the  gross 
anomaly  of  the  Bishop  of  London  being  the  Bishop  of 
America. 

The  Reformation  in  England  was  in  its  essence  a  national 
protest  against  internationalism.  Out  of  it  flowed  the  notion 
of  a  national  CJmrch  like  a  "  national  party  "  (a  contradiction 
in  terms  but  a  most  remarkable  actuality),  which  it,  in  common 
with  France,  theoretically  justified  as  prior  to  Roman  usurpa- 
tion. Our  Church  is  one  at  once  rooted  in  the  soil  as  a  civil 
institution,  a  source  of  parish  life,  a  security  for  local  govern- 
ment, a  bar  at  once  to  oligarchy  and  bureaucracy,  against  the 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         149 

exclusion  of  the  many  from  public  life,^  the  trustee  of  an 
estate  which  enables  all  to  become  proprietors  of  the  soil, 
which  is,  as  Disraeli  termed  it,  "  the  fluctuating  patrimony  of 
the  great  body  of  the  people  ;  "  and  it  is  also  by  inheritance 
one  paramount  in  the  country  as  a  spiritual  authority,  an 
educator,  a  social  regenerator,  and  a  mainspring  of  that  toler- 
ance and  religious  liberty  which  the  great  Whig  party  secured 
for  our  country.  As  Disraeli  has  pointed  out  repeatedly,  the 
union  of  Church  and  State  means  the  hallowing  of  the  civil 
power,  the  investment  of  secular  authority  with  religious 
sanction,  the  loss  of  which  the  State  would  be  the  first  to  feel 
and  regret,  should  the  bond  be  severed. 

England,  then,  is  the  only  nation  that  has  reconciled 
through  compromise  the  spiritual  ideas  of  Theocracy  with  the 
dominant  forms  of  the  State. 

But  the  English  Church,  headed  by  the  English  king,  was 
soon  faced  by  Puritanism  ;  and  of  this  phase  Disraeli,  through 
his  father's  history,  was  a  deep  student. 

Puritanism  was  cradled  among  small  traders,  conscious  of 
their  virtues,  but  socially  ill  at  ease.  It  at  once  became 
terribly  at  ease  in  the  courts  of  Zion.  It  began  with  a  retail 
outlook,  and  it  soon  politicised  its  creed.  It  became  emi- 
nently republican,  nor  was  it  ever  democratic.  Instinctively 
counter  to  all  forms,  whether  "temporal"  or  "spiritual,"  it 
aimed  at  the  destruction  both  of  Monarchy  and  the  Church, 
and  yet  it  set  up  an  exclusiveness  of  its  own.  The  Jewish 
Theocracy  had,  as  I  have  pointed  out,  broken  down  even 
under  that  monarchical  shape  which  suited  it,  just  because 
its  outward  State  apparatus  was  mechanical  and  out  of  touch 
with  the  development  of  national  life.  The  finer  spirits  of 
Puritanism — and  they  were  very  fine — had  these  features  to 
reckon  with.  Cromwell,  like  Savonarola,  compassed  an  im- 
practicable solecism.  He  desired  a  Republican  Theocracy. 
His  scheme  only  chimed  with  that  of  the  Church  which  he 
sought  to  ruin  in  this,  that  he  too  wished  religion  to  be  nation- 
ally organised — to  be  political.  But  the  result  was  an  intolerant 
fanaticism  of  mutually  persecuting  sects,  and  a  Parliamentary 

'  That  the  Church  was  "a  main  obstacle  to  oligarchical  power," 
Disraeli  pointed  out  as  early  as  in  his  Riinnymede  Letters, 


I50  DTST^  AELl 

censorship  of  morals  which  cramped,  nay,  imprisoned  self- 
developing  virtue,  confounded  holiness  with  austerity,  and 
furnished  the  best  argument  for  a  "  national  Church." 

Milton,  who  tempered  the  Puritanic  fire  with  the  Renais- 
sance light,  who,  in  his  youth,  was  a  worshipper  of  the 
subdued  loveliness  of  the  Church  and  "her  dim,  religious 
light,"  came  to  regard  our  national  Church  as  merely,  in  his 
own  phrase,  "  an  anti-papal  schism."  Like  Cromwell,  he 
longed  to  destroy  it. 

"  It  is  a  rule  and  principle,"  he  urges,^  "  worthy  to  be 
known  by  Christians,  that  no  Scripture,  no,  nor  so  much  as  any 
ancient  creed,  binds  our  faith  or  our  obedience  to  any  Church 
whatsoever  denominated  by  a  particular  name  ;  far  less  if  it 
be  distinguished  by  a  several  government  from  that  which  is 
indeed  Catholic.  ...  It  were  an  injury  to  condemn  the  papist 
of  absurdity  and  contradiction  for  adhering  to  his  Catholic 
Romish  religion,  if  we,  for  the  pleasure  of  a  king  and  his 
public  considerations,  shall  adhere  to  a  Catholic  English." 
Milton  only  wanted  republican  instead  of  monarchical  forms. 
Politics  were  still  the  setting  of  religion.  He  was  even  more 
inconsistent.  He  deprecated  any  discipline  by  the  State, 
although  his  Church  was  a  political  Church,  and  although 
Cromwell's  purposes  are  contradicted  by  Milton's  very  de- 
precation," "  If  we  think  " — who  can  forget  this  fine  passage 
from  his  "  Speech  for  the  Liberty  of  Unlicensed  Printing  "  ? — 
"  if  we  think  to  regulate  printing,  thereby  to  rectify  manners, 
we  must  regulate  all  recreations  and  pastimes,  all  that  is 
delightful  to  men.  No  music  must  be  set  or  sung  but  what  is 
grave  and  Doric.  ...  I  hate  a  pupil-teacher  ;  I  endure  not 
an  instructor  that  comes  to  me  under  the  wardship  of  an 
overseeing  fist."  How  did  Milton  relish  the  Independents  as 
"pupil  teachers,"  or  the  "overseeing  fist"  of  the  Fifth-Monarchy 
men,  or  the  wardship  of  the  Reign  of  Saints  .-*  Milton  wants 
neither  the  Church  as  a  Polity,  nor  the  State  as  a  Church. 
Not  staying  to  inquire  what  fits  the  genius  of  England  and 
her  national  traditions  and  customs,  he  seeks  a  Theocracy 
which  is  untheocratic,  and  a  national  republic  doomed  to  fall 
when  the  perfect  ruler  is  removed. 

'  Answer  to  "  Eikon  Basilike." 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         151 

"  When,"  he  indignantly  exclaims  ^ — "  when  God  shakes  a 
kingdom  with  strong  and  healthful  commotions  to  a  general 
reforming,  it  is  not  untrue  that  many  sectaries  and  false 
teachers  are  then  busiest  in  seducing,  but  yet  more  true  is  it 
that  God  then  raises  to  His  own  work  men  of  rare  abilities  and 
more  than  common  industry,  not  only  to  look  back  and  revise 
what  hath  been  taught  heretofore,  but  to  gain  further  and  to 
go  on  some  new  enlightened  steps  in  the  discovery  of  truth." 
So,  then,  a  reformed  commonwealth,  and  no  visible  Church 
are  Milton's  ideals, 

"The  Parliament  of  England,"  he  protests,  had  turned 
"  regal  bondage  into  a  free  commonwealth,"  "  All  Protes- 
tants," he  proceeds,  "  hold  that  Christ  in  His  Church  hath  left 
no  vicegerent  of  his  power,  but  Himself  without  deputy  is 
the  only  head  thereof,  governing  it  from  heaven."  So  far 
Milton  announces  pure  Theocracy  ;  but  the  leaven  of  his 
classical  republicanism  is  disclosed  in  the  next  sentence:  he 
cannot  divorce  religion  from  politics,  "  How,  then,  can  any 
Christian  man  derive  his  kingship  from  Christ  ?  I  doubt  not 
but  all  ingenuous  and  knowing  men  will  easily  agree  with  me 
that  a  free  commonwealth,  without  a  single  person  or  House  of 
Lords,  is  by  far  the  best  Government,  if  it  can  be  had,"  And 
then  he  propounds  grand  councils  of  a  perpetual  senate,  safe- 
guarded against  "  any  dogeship  of  Venice,"  ^  as  the  means  to 
save  the  State,  "The  whole  freedom  of  man,"  he  says, 
"  consists  either  in  spiritual  or  civil  liberty,"  No  rule  for  the 
first  is  admitted  by  him  but  the  Scriptures  ;  for  the  second  he 
takes  the  Dutch  model  of  the  United  Provinces.  But  he 
neglects  to  consider  how  liberty  can  be  settled  without  order, 
or  order  without  discipline,  or  discipline  without  authority,  or 
authority  without  creed. 

Even  the  loftiest  Puritan  ideal  of  Theocracy,  therefore,  was 
no  less  political  than  that  of  the  Church. 

A  very  few  years  witnessed  the  complete  breakdown  of  a 
system  which  sought  to  blend  the  early  Latin  and  the  early 
Semitic  ideals  together  in  unnatural  alliance,  and  disregarded 
the  native  bias  of  Great  Britain. 

1  "The  Ready  and  Easy  Way  to  Establish  a  Commonwealth." 
*  Here  we  find  an  early  beginning  of  "the  Venetian  oligarchy." 


152  DISRAELI 

The  ensuing  reaction  rendered  the  Engh".sh  Church  more 
pohtical  than  ever.  She  was  split  into  contending  partisan- 
ship for  contending  dynasties.  She  repudiated  James  the 
Second,  but  not  the  Stuarts.  Under  William  of  Orange 
latitudinarianism,  even  her  latitudinarianism,  was  militant. 
But  under  the  two  first  Georges  she  grew  torpid  and 
time-serving.  The  rash  and  rabid  Sunderland,  the  astute 
Walpole,  parodied  the  old  Miltonic  ideals  in  their  zeal  for 
indifferentism,  and  in  self-defence  the  Church  tended  tem- 
porarily to  seem  the  mere  stipendiary  of  the  State,  like  an 
excise  officer.  But  Wesley  in  England,  and  Whitefield  both 
here  and  in  America,  re-aroused  the  Church  to  the  higher 
and  holier  ideals  of  a  national  Theocracy.  Some  century 
later  the  Tractarian  movement  spurred  her  energies  afresh, 
and  they  have  since  been  once  more  quickened  in  the  battle 
with  mechanical  materialism. 

But  all  along  it  has  been  a  sheer  necessity  in  England — 
a  necessity  for  spiritual  as  well  as  civil  freedom—'&i-dX  the 
State  should  lend  its  earthly  sanction  of  order  to  the  Church. 
A  7iational  Church  so  uncontrolled  is  impossible  in  England, 
where  politics  tinge  every  form  of  aspiration.  For  inter- 
national Theocracy,  for  that  "millenary  year"  which  is  the 
magnificent  ideal  of  Romanism,  the  times  are  unripe.  It 
must  remain  a  remote  goal  so  long  as  the  competitive  egoism 
of  nations,  transfiguring  the  baser  egotism  of  individuals  and 
of  mere  races,  is  paramount. 

The  Church  State  has  been  unrealisable.  England  alone 
has  realised  the  State  Church.  The  former  has  been  impos- 
sible in  the  West,  owing  to  the  Aryan  genius  for  State 
development,  and  especially  to  the  national  instinct  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  family.  With  the  British  spirit  a  cosmopolitan 
religion  is  incompatible.  No  nation  ambitious  of  being  a 
world-power  can  revert  to  Theocracy.  It  is  not  feasible 
under  such  conditions. 

The  latter,  however,  the  Anglican  Church,  has  reconciled 
these  two  concepts  of  opposite  origins,  the  Oriental  idea  of  a 
"  Church,"  and  the  Occidental  idea  of  the  State.  For  it  is 
not  only  a  religious,  but  a  national  and  a  social  tradition. 

This,  I  take  it,  was  Disraeli's  attitude.     By  temperament 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         153 

he  was  theocratic.  He  believed  in  the  original  spirituality  of 
his  race  ;  but  he  also  believed  in  the  great  destiny  of  the 
nation  to  which  he  belonged,  and  in  her  Church  he  descried 
the  naturalised  power  of  Semitic  ideas,  the  only  form  in 
which  they  could  become  nationally  operative,  the  sole 
political  means  in  a  political  country  of  sanctifying  the 
secular.  "The  Church,"  he  once  said,  "is  one  of  the  few 
great  things  left."  The  Church  ever  found  him  a  wise  and 
enthusiastic  supporter.  The  fact  is,  as  he  put  it  in  a  speech 
of  i860,  "the  Church  is  a  part  of  England."  Nor  would  he 
ever  allow  that  mere  differences  of  opinion  negatived  her 
comprehensiveness.  She  was  still  Anglican.  What  he 
recoiled  from  was  the  hard-and-fast  narrowness  of  Puritanism, 
the  fiercer  fanaticisms  of  which,  he  always  maintained,  had 
undone  Ireland.  Sectarianism  is  not  strength,  for  strength 
resides  in  national  discipline.  He  regarded  a  "  national 
Church  "  as  the  best  pledge  for  religious  liberty  to  even  those 
outside  her  communion,  as  a  national  refuge  from  bigotry 
and  a  national  rampart  against  priestcraft. 

The  Church's  "  nationality  "  is  proved  even  by  the  peculiar 
character  of  her  property.  It  is  territorial.  It  is  (as  he 
emphasised  in  a  speech  of  1862)  "...  so  distributed  through- 
out the  country,  that  it  makes  that  Church,  from  the  very 
nature  of  its  tenure,  a  national  Church  ;  and  the  power  of 
the  Church  of  England  does  not  depend  merely  on  the 
amount  of  property  it  possesses,  but  in  a  very  great  degree 
on  the  character  and  kind  of  that  property.  Then  I  say 
that  the  Church,  deprived  of  its  status,  would  become  merely 
an  episcopal  sect  in  this  country.  And  in  time,  it  is  not 
impossible  it  might  become  an  insignificant  one.  But  that 
is  not  the  whole,  nor,  perhaps,  even  the  greatest  evil,  that 
might  arise  from  the  dissolution  of  the  connection  between 
Church  and  State,  because  in  the  present  age  the  art  of 
government  becomes  every  day  more  difficult,  and  no 
Government  will  allow  a  principle  so  powerful  as  the  religious 
principle  to  be  divorced  from  the  influences  by  which  it 
regulates  the  affairs  of  a  countr)'.  What  would  happen  }  .  .  . 
The  State  of  England  would  take  care,  after  the  Church  was 
spoiled,  to  enlist  in  its  service  what  are  called  the  ministers 


154  DTSKAELI 

of  all  religions.  They  would  be  salaried  by  the  State,  and 
the  consequences  of  the  dissolution  of  the  alliance  between 
Church  and  State  would  be  one  equally  disastrous  to  the 
Churchman  and  to  the  Nonconformist.  It  would  place  the 
ministers  of  all  spiritual  influences  under  the  control  of 
the  civil  power,  and  it  would  in  reality  effect  a  revolution  in 
the  national  character.  .  .  ." 

De  Tocqueville  has  proved  that  the  French  clergy  were 
the  staunchest  upholders  of  civil  liberty  before  the  Revolution  ; 
but  he  has  also  acutely  shown  that  the  Roman  priest- 
hood, devoid  of  domestic  ties,  looks  to  the  Church  as  its  sole 
fatherland,  unless  it  can  itself  become  a  proprietor  of  the  soil. 
The  French  Revolution  disempowered  it  for  that  purpose, 
and  evicted  it  from  its  heritage.  The  English  clergy,  on  the 
other  hand,  are  linked  to  civil  life  both  by  the  land  and  the 
home.  Contrast  for  one  moment  the  landscape  of  a  French 
village  with  that  of  an  English,  and  the  difference  becomes 
typified.  In  the  one  the  church  stands  aloof  and  dominates 
the  hamlet.  In  the  other  it  nestles  among  the  cottages,  and 
helps  the  daily  life  around  it. 

What  was  present  to  Disraeli's  mind  was  not  only  that,  in 
such  a  case,  the  ancient  landmarks  of  parish  life,  the  ancient 
trusts  of  education,  the  ancient  equality  of  social  intercourse 
between  clergy  and  laity,  the  ancient  duties  and  intimacies, 
the  ancient  openness  to  the  poorest  of  career  in  the  Church 
and  of  residence  on  the  land,  would  be  swept  away ;  but  that, 
as  he  expressed  it  when  discussing  the  "  Cowper-Temple 
Amendment"  in  1870,  "you  will  not  entrust  the  priest  or 
the  presbyter  with  the  privilege  of  expounding  the  Holy 
Scriptures  .  .  .  hU  for  that  purpose  you  are  invejiting  and 
establishing  a  new  sacerdotal  class."  "  My  idea  of  sacerdotal 
despotism,"  he  said  in  1863,  "is  this,  that  a  minister  of  the 
Church  of  England,  who  is  appointed  to  expound  doctrine, 
should  deem  that  he  has  a  right  to  invent  doctrine.  That 
...  is  the  sacerdotal  despotism  I  fear.  .  .  ."  The  State 
would  suffer ;  and  it  would  suffer  doubly.  Not  only  would 
religion  cease  to  be  an  official  element  of  order,  but  the 
ministers  of  religion  might  be  unduly  strengthened  in  civil 
affairs — might  be  over-politicised.     "  Whether  that  is  a  result 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         155 

to  be  desired,"  he  remarked  ten  years  afterwards,  "is  a 
grave  question  for  all  men.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  bound 
to  say  that  I  doubt  whether  it  would  be  favourable  to  the 
cause  of  civil  and  religious  liberty." 

In  his  novels  he  emphasises  his  belief  that  society  is 
inconceivable  without  religion,  and  that  "without  a  Church 
there  can  be  no  true  religion,  because  otherwise  you  have  no 
security  for  the  truth,"  although  he  also  distinguishes  between 
differing  "  orthodoxies  "  and  real  religion.  At  the  same  time, 
the  Church  as  a  polity  must  have  dogmas — "  No  Church,  no 
creed" — "no  dogmas,  no  deans,  Mr.  Dean."  The  human 
craving,  the  passionate  instinct  for  religion,  he  ever  based — 
from  the  date  of  Contariiti  Fleming  and  Alroy  to  that  of 
Coningshy  and  Tancred,  and  from  that  of  Tancred  to  that  of 
Lothair — on  the  fact  that  "  man  requb'es  that  there  shall  be 
direct  relations  between  the  created  and  the  Creator,  and  that 
in  those  relations  lie  should  find  a  solution  of  the  perplexities  of 
existence" — "The  brain  that  teems  with  illimitable  thought 
will  never  recognise  as  his  Creator  any  power  of  nature,  how- 
ever irresistible,  that  is  not  gifted  with  consciousness.  .  .  . 
The  Church  comes  forward,  and  without  equivocation  offers 
to  establish  direct  relations  between  God  and  man.  Philo- 
sophy denies  its  title  and  disputes  its  power.  Why  ?  Because 
they  are  founded  on  the  supernatural.  What  is  the  super- 
natural 1  Can  there  be  anything  more  miraculous  than  the 
existence  of  man  and  the  world  }  Anything  more  literally 
supernatural  than  the  origin  of  things }  The  Church  explains 
what  no  one  else  pretends  to  explain,  and  which  every  one 
agrees  it  is  of  first  moment  should  be  made  clear." 

Of  the  two  passions  which  moved  Disraeli,  the  one  for 
mastery,  the  other  for  the  mysterious,  the  last  was  perhaps 
the  strongest.  The  mysteries  that  fascinated  him  were  real, 
and  did  not  render  him  a  mystic,  still  less  a  quietist.  It  is  a 
mistake  so  to  regard  him.  His  strength  alike  and  his  weak- 
ness resided  in  the  practical  energy  of  his  imagination.  The 
whole  of  existence  was  for  him  a  standing  miracle.  "  Con- 
tarini "  finds  his  fate  bya  vision  in  a  church  ;  "  Venetia  "  receives 
a  miraculous  answer  to  her  prayer  of  agony.  He  delights  to 
depict,  even  in  the  short  biography  of  his  father,  providential 


156  DISRAELI 

coincidences.  What  is  deemed  bizarre  in  his  works,  is 
really  the  sense  of  magic  wonder  in  all  we  experience. 
His  irony,  too,  contrasting  show  with  substance  and  words 
with  things,  works  by  paradox.^  That  man  is  a  spirit  on 
earth  was  his  firm  conviction.  We  find  it  accentuated  from 
his  earliest  utterances  to  his  latest.  "...  There  are  some 
things  I  know,"  said  the  Syrian  in  Lothair,  according  with 
the  Syrian  in  Tancred,  "  and  some  things  I  believe.  I  know 
that  I  have  a  soul,  and  I  believe  that  it  is  immortal.  .  .  ."  - 
The  riddle  of  life  is  not  to  be  solved  by  theories,  however 
true  or  ingenious  of  the  processes  of  development,  still  less 
by  the  fashionable  "prattle  of  protoplasm,"  or  the  glib 
triflers  with  their  "We  once  had  fins,  we  shall  have  wings." 
He  was  quite  sincere  and  consistent  in  his  famous  "Ape  or 
Angel"  dilemma.  He  believed,  both  passionately  and  dis- 
passionately, that  man  was  divine.  Science  confesses  that  its 
discoveries  are  merely  of  recurrent  facts  called  laws  ;  it  does 
not  profess  to  account  for  them. 

"  Science  may  prove  the  insignificance  of  this  globe  in  the 
scale  of  creation,"  said  the  stranger,  "but  it  cannot  prove 
the  insignificance  of  man.  What  is  the  earth  compared  with 
the  sun  ?  A  mole-hill  by  a  mountain  ;  yet  the  inhabitants 
of  this  earth  can  discover  the  elements  of  which  the  great 
orb  exists,  and  will  probably,  ere  long,  ascertain  all  the  con- 
ditions of  its  being.  Nay,  the  human  mind  can  penetrate 
far  beyond  the  sun.  There  is  no  relation,  therefore,  between 
the  faculties  of  man  and  the  scale  in  creation  of  the  planet 
which  he  inhabits.  .  .  .  But  there  are  people  now  who  tell 
you  there  never  was  any  creation,  and  therefore  there  never 
could  have  been  a  creator." — "  And  which  is  now  advanced 
with  the  confidence  of  novelty,"  said  the  Syrian,  "  though  all 
of  it  has  been  urged,  and  vainly  urged,  thousands  of  years 
ago.  There  must  be  design,  or  all  we  see  would  be  without 
sense,  and  I  do  not  believe  in   the  unmeaning.     As  for  the 

^  These  paradoxes,  like  "  Sidonia's,"  have  been  constantly  proved  true. 
I  may  mention  a  fantastic  description  of  a  sculptured  Eastern  cavern, 
which  recent  discovery  has  confirmed. 

-  Cf.  Vwmn  Gref.  This  idea  is  derived  from  Bolingbroke's  philo- 
sophical works. 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         157 

natural  forces  to  which  all  creation  is  now  attributed,  we  know 
that  they  are  unconscious,  while  consciousness  is  as  inevitable 
a  portion  of  our  existence  as  the  eye  or  the  hand.  The  con- 
scious cannot  be  derived  from  the  unconscious.  Man  is 
divine.  ...  Is  it  more  unphilosophical  to  believe  in  a  personal 
God  omnipotent  and  omniscient,  than  in  natural  forces  un- 
conscious and  irresistible  ?  Is  it  unphilosophical  to  com- 
bine power  with  intelligence  ?  Goethe,  a  Spinozist  who  did 
not  believe  in  Spinoza,  said  he  could  bring  his  mind  to  the 
conception  that  in  the  centre  of  space  we  might  meet  with  a 
monad  of  pure  intelligence.  Is  that  more  philosophical  than 
the  truth  first  revealed  to  man  amid  these  everlasting  hills," 
said  the  Syrian,  "  that  God  made  man  in  His  own  image  ?  " 
..."  It  is  the  charter  of  the  nobility  of  man  .  .  .  one  of  the 
divine  dogmas  revealed  in  this  land  ;  not  the  invention  of 
councils,  not  one  of  which  was  held  on  this  sacred  soil ;  con- 
fused assemblies  first  got  together  by  the  Greeks,  and  then 
by  barbarous  nations  in  barbarous  times."  —  "Yet  the 
divine  land  no  longer  tells  us  divine  things,"  said  "  Lothair." 
"  It  may,  or  may  not,  have  fulfilled  its  destiny,"  said  the 
Syrian.  "  '  In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions,'  and 
by  the  various  families  of  nations  the  designs  of  the  Creator 
are  accomplished.  God  works  by  races,^  and  one  was 
appointed  in  due  season,  and  after  many  developments,  to 
reveal  and  expound  in  this  land  the  spiritual  nature  of 
man.  .  .  ." 

This  quotation  may  suffice,  though  many  others,  even  from 
the  biography  of  Lord  George  Bentinck,  might  have  been 
offered.  These  ideas  are  perhaps  best  summarised  in  the 
Preface  to  Lothair.     Disraeli  really  believed  in  the  sacredness 

^  A  very  favourite  idea  of  Disraeli's,  and  the  source  of  his  disbelief  in 
any  "  equality  of  man."  Cf.  "  All  is  race  "  in  Coningsby,  and  the  passage 
already  quoted  in  my  second  chapter  from  Contariiii  Fleming.  So 
again  in  the  Preface  to  Lothair,  "  One  of  the  consequences  of  the  Divine 
government  of  this  world,  which  has  ordained  that  the  sacred  purposes 
should  be  effected  by  the  instrumentality  of  various  human  races,  must 
be  occasionally  a  jealous  discontent  with  the  revelation  entrusted  to  a 
particular  family.  .  .  .  The  documents  will  yet  bear  a  greater  amount 
both  of  erudition  and  examination  than  they  have  received  ;  but  the 
Word  of  God  is  eternal,  and  will  survive  the  spheres."' 


158  DISRAELI 

of  the  Syrian  soil  and  air,  the  pecuh'ar  genius  of  the  Semite 
for  communion  with  God,  as  of  the  Hellene  for  communion 
with  nature  and  origination  of  art  ;  in  the  special  religious 
revelation  vouchsafed  to  Semites  alone  and  consummated 
in  Christianity,  which  he  ever  held  was  the  fulfilment  of 
Judaism.  The  dogma  of  the  Atonement  he  received  literally. 
It  was  a  divine  mystery  enacted  by  a  prince  of  Israel.  Dis- 
raeli's sense  of  mystery  was,  let  me  repeat,  literal,  and 
never  explained  through  emblems.  There  was  nothing  of 
Gothic  symbolism  in  his  nature.  From  these  convictions 
flowed  his  sanguine  confidence  in  himself  and  his  mission  ; 
in  destiny,  which  he  has  himself  said  may  be  but  the 
exertion  of  our  own  will.  From  these  flowed  his  sympathy 
with  the  heroic,  his  turn  for  the  adventurous  ;  his  disrelish, 
too,  of  modern  rationalism,  modern  materialism,^  and  even 
of  modern  metaphysics.-  From  these  flowed  his  faith  in 
the  revelations  of  conscience — "  I  worship  in  a  Church  where 
I  believe  God  dwells,  and  dwells  for  my  guidance  and  my 
good  ;  my  conscience  ;  "  ^  in  a  word,  from  these  flowed  his 
bias  towards  a  natural  Theocracy.  But,  as  I  have  already 
said,  he  recognised  that  the  English  Church  had  alone,  as  the 
depository  of  these  racial  ideas,  attuned  them  to  the  national 
refrain  of  England,  embodied  them  in  living  Western  flesh. 
Just  as  for  him  Government  meant  organised  authority,  and 
Party  organised  opinion,  so  the  Church  meant  organised 
belief;  nor  did  he  ever  cease  to  point  out  that  if  the  national 
Church  were  disestablished,  if  that  form  of  Protestant  religion, 

1  " .  .  .  What  is  styled  Materialism  is  in  the  ascendant.  To  those 
who  beheve  that  an  Atheistical  society,  though  it  may  be  polished  and 
amiable,  involves  the  seeds  of  anarchy,  the  prospect  is  full  of  gloom." 

2  ".  .  .  Let  us  at  length  discover  that  no  society  can  long  subsist  that 
is  based  upon  metaphysical  absurdities.  .  .  .  Before  me  is  a  famous 
treatise  on  human  nature  by  a  Professor  of  Konigsberg.  No  one  has 
more  profoundly  meditated  on  the  attributes  of  his  subject.  It  is  evident 
that  in  the  deep  study  of  his  own  intelligence  he  has  discovered  a  noble 
method  of  expounding  that  of  others.  Yet  when  I  close  his  volumes, 
can  I  conceal  from  myself  that  all  this  time  I  have  been  studying  a 
treatise  upon  the  nature — not  of  man,  but  of  a  German  ?  " — Contaritn 
FU'/ning. 

3  The  hackneyed  mot  of  "  Sensible  men  never  tell "  is  derived  from 
Voltaire. 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY        159 

resting  on  popular  sympathies  and  popular  privileges,  which 
had  grown  with  the  growth  of  England  and  had  leavened  her 
life,  her  civil  society,  her  public  education,  and  even  her  pas- 
times, were  divorced  from  the  principle  of  authority,  not  only 
might  the  competition  of  sects  cause  a  bigoted  intolerance, 
but  the  State  itself  would  certainly  be  the  loser. 

I  will  choose  another  most  pertinent  passage  from  his 
speech  on  the  Irish  Church  Bill,  delivered  in  March,  1869. 
He  had  discussed  "disendowment,"  and  he  opposed  it  with  all 
his  might,  as  the  plunder  of  the  Church  in  English  history 
had  always  gone  into  the  coffers  of  the  land,  although  it  was 
a  trust  for  the  poor. 

"  Now,  sir,"  he  continued,  with  regard  to  disestablishment, 
"  I  myself  am  much  opposed  to  it,  because  I  am  in  favour 
of  what  is  called  the  union  between  Church  and  State. 
What  I  understand  by  the  union  of  Church  and  State  is 
an  arrangement  which  renders  the  State  religious  by  investing 
authority  with  the  highest  sanctions  that  can  influence  the 
sentiments,  the  convictions,  and  consequently  the  conduct  of 
the  subject ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  that  union  renders  the 
Church— using  that  epithet  in  its  noblest  and  purest  sense 
—political.  That  is  to  say,  it  blends  civil  authority  with 
ecclesiastical  influence  ;  it  defines  and  defends  the  rights  of 
the  laity,  and  prevents  the  Church  from  subsiding  into  a 
sacerdotal  corporation.  If  you  divest  the  State  of  this  con- 
nection, it  appears  to  me  that  you  necessarily  reduce  both  the 
quantity  and  the  quality  of  its  duties.  The  State  will  still  be 
the  protector  of  our  persons  and  our  property,  and  no  doubt 
these  are  most  important  duties  for  the  State  to  perform. 
But  there  are  duties  in  a  community  which  rather  excite  a 
spirit  of  criticism  than  a  sentiment  of  enthusiasm  and  venera- 
tion. All,  or  most  of  the  higher  functions  of  Government — 
take  education,  for  example,  the  formation  of  the  character 
of  the  people,  and  consequently  the  guidance  of  their  future 
conduct — depart  from  the  State  and  become  the  appanage 
of  religious  societies,  of  the  religious  organisations  of  the 
country — you  may  call  them  the  various  Churches,  if  you 
please — when  they  are  established  on  what  are  called 
independent  principles." 


i6o  DISRAELI 

After  welcoming  the  fact  of  a  religious  revival,  he  next 
continues : — 

"  When  we  have  to  decide  whether  we  can  dissociate  the 
principle  of  religion  from  the  State,  it  is  well  to  remember 
that  we  are  asked  to  relinquish  an  influence  that  is  universal. 
We  hear  in  these  days  a  great  deal  of  philosophy.  Now,  it 
is  my  happiness  in  life  to  be  acquainted  with  eminent  philo- 
sophers. They  all  agree  in  one  thing.  They  will  all  tell  you 
that,  however  brilliant  may  be  the  discoveries  of  physical 
science,  however  marvellous  those  demonstrations  which 
attempt  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  the  human  mind,  won- 
derful as  may  be  these  discoveries,  greatly  as  they  have  con- 
tributed to  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  man,  or  confirmed 
his  consciousness  of  the  nobility  of  his  nature — yet  all  those 
great  philosophers  agree  in  one  thing — that  in  their  investiga- 
tions there  is  an  inevitable  term  where  they  meet  the  in- 
soluble, where  all  the  most  transcendent  powers  of  intellect 
dissipate  and   disappear.^      There   commences   the   religious 

^  In  the  Preface  to  Lothair  he  says  : — "  The  sceptical  eftbits  of  the 
discoveries  of  science,  and  the  uneasy  feeling  that  they  cannot  co-exist 
with  our  old  religious  convictions,  have  their  origin  in  the  conviction  that 
the  general  body  who  have  suddenly  become  conscious  of  these  physical 
truths  are  not  so  well  acquainted  as  is  desirable  with  the  past  history  of 
man.  Astonished  by  their  unprepared  emergence  from  ignorance  to  a 
certain  degree  of  information,  their  amazed  intelligence  takes  refuge  in  the 
theory  of  what  is  conveniently  called  Progress,  and  every  step  in  scientific 
discovery  seems  further  to  remove  them  from  the  path  of  primaeval 
inspiration.  But  there  is  no  fallacy  so  flagrant  as  to  suppose  that  the 
modern  ages  have  the  peculiar  privilege  of  scientific  discovery,  or  that 
they  are  distinguished  as  the  epochs  of  the  most  illustrious  inventions. 
No  one  for  a  moment  can  pretend  that  printing  is  so  great  a  discovery  as 
writing,  or  algebra  as  language.  What  are  the  most  brilliant  of  our 
chemical  discoveries  compared  with  the  invention  of  fire  and  the  metals  ? 
It  is  a  vulgar  belief  that  our  astronomical  knowledge  dates  only  from  the 
recent  century,  when  it  was  rescued  from  the  monks  who  imprisoned 
Galileo.  But  Hipparchus,  who  lived  before  our  Divine  Master  .  .  . 
discovered  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes ;  and  Copernicus  .  .  .  avows 
himself  as  only  the  champion  of  Pythagoras.  .  .  .  Even  the  most  modish 
schemes  of  the  day  on  the  origin  of  things  .  .  .  will  be  found  mainly  to 
rest  on  the  atom  of  Epicurus  and  the  monad  of  Thales.  Scientific,  like 
spiritual  truth,  has  ever  from  the  beginning  been  descending  from  heaven 
to  man.  ..."  So,  too,  in  a  speech  of  1861,  deahng  both  with  science 
and  the  higher  criticism,  "  Epicurus  was,  I  apprehend,  as  great  a  man  as 
Hegel  ;  but  it  was  not  Epicurus  who  subverted  the  religion  of  Olympus." 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         i6i 

principle.  It  is  universal,  and  it  will  assert  its  universal 
influence  in  the  government  of  men.  Now,  I  put  this  case 
before  the  House.  We  are  asked  to  commence  a  great 
change.  .  .  .  When,  therefore,  we  are  called  to  the  considera- 
tion of  these  circumstances,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that 
we  should  contemplate  the  possibility  of  our  establishing  a 
society  in  which  there  may  be  two  powers,  the  political  and 
the  religious,  and  the  religious  may  be  the  stronger.^  Now  I 
will  take  this  case.  Under  ordinary  circumstances,  a  Govern- 
ment performing  those  duties  of  police,  to  which  it  will  be 
limited  when  the  system  has  perfectly  developed,  the  first 
step  to  which  we  are  called  upon  to  take  to-night — such  a 
Government,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  will  be  treated 
with  decent  respect.  But  a  great  public  question,  such  as 
has  before  occurred  in  this  country,  and  as  must  periodically 
occur  in  free  and  active  communities — a  great  public  question 
arises,  which  touches  the  very  fundamental  principles  of  our 
domestic  tranquillity,  or  even  the  existence  of  the  Empire  ; 
but  the  Government  of  the  country,  and  the  religious  organi- 
sations of  the  country,  take  different  views,  and  entertain 
different  opinions  on  that  subject.  In  all  probability  the 
Government  of  the  country  will  be  right.  The  Government 
in  its  secret  councils  is  calm  and  impartial,  is  in  possession  of 
ample  and  accurate  information,  views  every  issue  before  it 
in  reference  to  the  interests  of  all  classes,  and  takes,  therefore, 
what  is  popularly  called  a  comprehensive  view.  The  religious 
organisation  of  the  country  acts  in  quite  a  different  manner. 
It  is  not  calm  ;  it  is  not  impartial  ;  it  is  sincere,  it  is  fervid, 
it  is  enthusiastic.  Its  information  is  limited  and  prejudiced. 
It  does  not  view  the  question  of  the  day  in  reference  to  the 
interests  of  all  classes.  It  looks  upon  the  question  as  some- 
thing of  so  much  importance — as  something  of  such  trans- 
cendent interest,  not  only  for  the  earthly,  but  even  for  the 
future  welfare  of  all  her  Majesty's  subjects — that  it  will  allow 
no  consideration  to  divert  its  mind  and  energy  from  the 
accomplishment  of  its  object.  It,  therefore,  necessarily  takes 
what  is  commonly  called  a  contracted  view.  But  who  can 
doubt  what  will  be  the  result,  xvJmi  on  a  question  ivhich  enlists 

•  Probably  always  in  England.     In  France  the  reverse  is  happening. 
M 


i62  DISRAELI 

and  excites  all  tfie  religious  passions  of  the  nation,  the  zeal  of 
enthusiasm  advocates  one  policy,  and  tJie  calmness  of  philosophers 
afid  the  experience  of  statesmen  recommend  another.  The 
Government  might  be  right,  but  the  Govertimeni  would  not  be 
able  to  enforce  its  policy,  and  the  question  might  be  decided  in 
a  way  that  might  disturb  a  country  or  eveti  destroy  an  empire. 
I  know,  sir,  it  may  be  said  that  though  there  may  be  some 
truth  in  this  view  abstractedly  considered,  yet  it  does  not 
apply  to  the  country  in  which  we  live,  because  ...  we  enjoy 
religious  freedom  .  .  .  and  because  only  a  portion  of  her 
Majesty's  subjects  are  in  communion  with  the  National 
Church.  I  draw  a  very  different  conclusion  to  that  which  I 
have  supposed  as  the  objection.  .  .  .  It  is  because  there  is  an 
Established  Church  that  we  have  acJiieved  religious  liberty  and 
enjoy  religious  toleration  ;  and  ivithoiit  the  union  of  the  Church 
with  the  State,  I  do  not  see  ivhat  security  there  would  be  either 
for  religions  liberty  or  toleration.  No  error  could  be  greater 
than  to  suppose  that  the  advantage  of  the  Established  Church 
is  limited  to  those  who  are  in  communion  with  it.  Take  the 
case  of  the  Roman  Catholic  priest.  He  will  refuse— and  in 
doing  so  he  is  quite  justified,  and  is  indeed  bound  to  do  so — 
he  will,  I  say,  refuse  to  perform  the  offices  of  the  Church  to 
any  one  not  in  communion  with  it.  The  same  with  the 
Dissenters.  It  is  quite  possible — it  has  happened,  and  might 
happen  very  frequently — that  a  Roman  Catholic  may  be 
excommunicated  by  his  Church,  or  a  sectarian  may  be 
denounced  and  expelled  by  his  congregation  ;  but  if  that 
happens  in  this  country,  the  individual  in  question  who  has 
been  thus  excommunicated,  denounced,  or  expelled,  is  not  a 
forlorn  being.  There  is  the  Church,  of  which  the  Sovereign 
is  the  head,  which  does  not  acknowledge  the  principle  of 
Dissent,  and  which  does  not  refuse  to  that  individual  those 
religious  rites  which  are  his  privilege  and  consolation.  .  .  . 
Now,  I  cannot  believe  that  the  disendowment  of  the  Church 
of  England  could  occur  without  very  great  disturbances.  .  .  . 
England  cannot  afford  revolution.  Englatid  has  had  her  revolu- 
tio7is.  It  is  indeed  because  she  had  revolutions  about  two 
hundred  years  ago,  before  other  nations  had  their  revolutions, 
that  she  gained  her  great  start  in  wealth  and  empire.     Now, 


CHURCH   AND  THEOCRACY         163 

sir,  what  have  we  gained  by  these  revolutions  ?  A  period 
of  nearly  two  hundred  years  of  great  serenity  and  the  secured 
stability  of  the  State.  I  attribute  these  happy  characteristics 
of  our  history  to  the  circumstance,  that  in  this  interval  we 
did  solve  two  of  the  finest  and  profoundest  political  problems. 
We  accomplished  complete  personal,  and,  in  time,  complete 
political  liberty,  and  combined  them  with  order.  We  achieved 
complete  religious  liberty,  and  we  united  it  with  a  national 
faith.  These  two  immense  exploits  have  won  for  this  country 
regulated  freedom  and  temperate  religion.  .  .  .  Speaking  now 
not  as  a  partisan,  I  believe  the  Tory  party,  however  it  may 
at  times  have  erred,  has  always  been  the  friend  of  local 
government,  and  that  the  instinct  of  the  nation  made  it  feel 
that  on  local  gover7iment  political  freedom  depended!'  ^ 

"  It  is  said,"  he  remarked  three  years  afterwards,  after 
commenting  on  the  historical  union  between  Church  and 
State — "two  originally  independent  powers,"  and  the  fact 
that  their  alliance  has  prevented  the  spiritual  power  from 
"usurping  upon  the  civil  and  establishing  a  sacerdotal 
society,"  as  well  as  the  civil  power  from  invading  "  the  rights 
of  the  spiritual,"  and  from  degrading  its  ministers  into 
"  salaried  instruments  of  the  Government." — "  It  is  said,"  he 
continued,  "that  the  existence  of  Nonconformity  proves  that 
the  Church  is  a  failure.  I  draw  from  these  premises  an 
exactly  contrary  conclusion  ;  and  I  maintain  that  to  have 
secured  a  national  profession  of  faith  with  the  unlimited 
enjoyment  of  private  judgment  in  matters  spiritual  is  .  .  .  one 
of  the  triumphs  of  civilisation."  Nonconformity  he  considered 
a  misfortune,  though  it  was  a  symptom  of  national  freedom. 
With  Nonconformists,  however,  he  sympathised.  It  was  with 
indifference  that  he  warred. 

Let  me  illustrate  these  points.     In  an  earlier  speech  he 

»  This  idea  is,  among  other  speeches,  worked  out  in  that  dehvered  at 
Amersham,  December  4,  i860,  where  he  says  :  "The  parish  is  one  of 
the  strongest  securities  for  local  government,  and  on  local  government 
mainly  depends  our  political  liberty."  He  points  out  that  the  Church  is 
not  oligarchical,  and  does  not  claim  those  exclusive  privileges  which  the 
Nonconformists  often  do.  It  is  national  in  its  comprehensive  ties  with 
the  country  and  its  inclusiveness.  The  abolition  of  the  parish  system 
would  alone  prove  a  national  and  social  upheaval. 


i64  DTSKAELT 

addresses  himself  to  prove  that  the  Church  is  none  the  less 
truly  national  because  millions  of  the  nation  are  not  in  com- 
munion with  it ;  and  he  analyses  Nonconformity. 

"  Now,  the  history  of  English  Dissent  will  always  be  a 
memorable  chapter  in  the  history  of  the  country.  It  displays 
many  of  those  virtues  for  which  the  English  character  is 
distinguished — earnestness,  courage,  devotion,  conscience.  But 
one  thing  is  quite  clear,  that  in  the  present  day  the  causes 
which  originally  created  Dissent  no  longer  exist ;  while — which 
is  of  still  more  importance — there  are  now  causes  in  existence 
opposed  to  the  spread  of  Dissent.  I  will  not  refer  to  the  fact 
that  many — I  believe  the  great  majority — of  the  families  of  the 
descendants  of  the  original  Puritans  and  Presbyterians  have 
merged  in  the  Church  of  England  itself ;  but  no  man  can  any 
longer  conceal  from  himself  that  the  tendency  of  this  age  is 
not  that  all  creeds  and  Churches  and  consistories  should 
combine — I  do  not  say  that,  mind — but  I  do  say  that  it  is 
that  they  should  cease  hereafter  from  any  internecine  hos- 
tility ;  .  .  .  and  therefore,  so  far  as  the  spread  of  .  ,  .  mere 
sincere  religious  Dissent  is  concerned,  I  hold  that  it  is  of  a 
very  limited  character,  and  there  is  nothing  in  the  existence 
of  it  which  should  prevent  the  Church  of  England  from  as- 
serting her  nationality.  For  observe,  the  same  difficulties 
that  are  experienced  by  the  Church  are  also  experienced  by 
the  Dissenters,  without  the  advantage  which  the  Church 
possesses  in  her  discipline,  learning,  and  traditions." 

Part  of  these  "  difficulties "  he  considered  in  the  later 
speech,  above  cited,  where  he  holds  that  the  existence  of 
parties  in  the  Church  is  a  sign  of  vigour ;  but  the  other 
part,  the  growth  of  indififerentism  among  millions  of  the 
populace,  he  considers  here,  and  he  considers  it  as  affording 
a  great  field  for  the  Church  if  it  be  true  to  its  great  traditions 
and  answers  to  the  temper  of  the  times  and  to  the  call  of  the 
summons.  "...  If,  indeed,  the  Church  of  England  were  in 
the  same  state  as  the  pagan  religion  was  in  the  time  of  Con- 
stantine  ;  if  her  altars  were  paling  before  the  Divine  splendour 
of  inspired  shrines,  it  might  be  well  indeed  for  the  Church 
and  its  ministers  to  consider  the  course  that  they  should 
pursue  ;   but  nothing  of  the   kind    is   the   case.      With    the 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         165 

indifferentists  you  are  dealing  with  millions  of  a  people  the 
most  enthusiastic,  though  not  the  most  excitable,  in  the 
world.     And  what  awakes  their  enthusiasm  ? 

"...  The  notes  on  the  gamut  of  their  feeling  are  feiv,  but 
they  are  deep.  Industry,  Liberty,  Religion,  form  the  solemn 
scale.  Ifidustry,  Liberty,  Religion— that  is  the  history  of 
England!'  He  predicts  a  feeling  of  exaltation  for  religion 
similar  to  those  enthusiasms  for  freedom  and  toil  which  have 
inspired  the  nation  in  recent  periods,  and  he  harps  on  the 
opportunity  for  a  Church  with  a  tradition  of  "  the  beauty  of 
holiness."  "What  a  field  for  a  corporation  which  is  not 
merely  a  Church,  but  ...  the  Church  of  England  ;  blending 
with  a  divine  instruction  the  sentiment  of  patriotism,  and 
announcing  herself  as  the  Church  of  the  country  ;  "  which 
may  realise  its  nationality  by  increasing  her  hold  on  the 
education  ^  of  the  people,  "  though  it  is  possible  there  may  be 
fresh  assaults  and  attacks  upon  the  machinery  by  which  the 
State  has  assisted  the  Church  in  that  great  effort ; "  by  ex- 
tending the  Episcopate  (which  has  happened) ;  by  developing 
the  lay  element  in  the  administration  of  her  temporal  affairs  ; 
by  fulfilling  the  right  of  visitation  both  by  priest  and 
parishioner,  and  maintaining  those  parochial  privileges  which 
are  still  inviolate  both  in  town  and  country  ;  by  remedying 
the  gross  inequality  of  stipend  (which  remains  to  be  done)  ; 
by,  so  far  as  possible,  relying  on  the  Church  itself,  and  not 
resorting  to  the  Legislature. 

With  respect  to  indifferentism  among  the  more  enlightened 
classes,  it  is  "  agnosticism,"  partly  due  to  the  scientific  spirit 
on  which  I  have  touched  ;  partly  to  that  "higher  criticism  " 
which  Germany  originated,  and  which,  it  is  clear,  can  only 
modify  the  views  of  an  educated  few.  With  the  mild  rational- 
ism of  "  Essays  and  Reviews,"  Disraeli  dealt  characteristically. 
He  found  them  "  at  the  best  a  second-hand  medley  of  contra- 
dictory and  discordant  theories."  Thirty  years  earlier  he  had 
satirised  those  devout  Christians  who  do  not  believe  in  Chris- 
tianity. As  in  the  march  of  Science  he  perceived  nothing  new, 
and  held  that  it  interpreted  the  imagery  without  sapping  the 

1  This  policy  was  pressed  by  Peel  in  the  early  'forties,  and  led  to  the 
fine  work  of  the  National  Schools. 


1 66  DISRAELI 

foundations  of  belief,  so  with  regard  to  the  "  Teutonic  rebellion  " 
against  inspiration,  he  saw  only  repeated  in  another  form,  and 
with  no  more  ability,  the  Celtic  "  insurrection "  which  dis- 
tinguished the  eighteenth  century:  both  had  their  uses. 
"  Man  brings  to  the  study  of  oracles  more  learning  and  more 
criticism  than  of  yore  ;  and  it  is  well  that  it  should  be  so." 
Nay,  the  very  development  of  the  German  theological  school 
proves  its  ephemeral  character. 

"About  a  century  ago"  (he  observed  in  iS6i)  "German 
theology,  which  was  mystical,  became  by  the  law  of  reactions 
critical.  There  gradually  arose  a  school  of  philosophical 
theologians  which  introduced  a  new  system  for  the  interpre- 
tation of  Scripture.  Accepting  the  sacred  narrative  without 
cavil,  they  explained  all  the  supernatural  incidents  by 
natural  causes.  This  system  in  time  was  called  Rationalism. 
.  .  .  But  where  now  is  German  Rationalism,  and  what  are  its 
results  ?  They  are  erased  from  the  intellectual  tablets  of 
living  opinion.  A  new  school  of  German  theology  then 
arose,  which,  with  profound  learning  and  in  exorable  logic, 
proved  that  Rationalism  was  irrational,  and  successfully  sub- 
stituted for  it  a  new  scheme  of  scriptural  interpretation  called 
the  mythical.^  But  if  the  mythical  theologians  triumphantly 
demonstrated  .  .  ,  that  Rationalism  was  irrational,  so  the 
mythical  system  itself  has  already  become  a  myth  ;  and  its 
most  distinguished  votaries,  in  that  spirit  of  progress  which, 
as  we  are  told,  is  the  characteristic  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
and  which  generally  brings  us  back  to  old  ideas,  have  now 
found  an  invincible  solution  of  the  mysteries  of  human  exist- 
ence in  a  revival  of  Pagan  pantheism." 

This  he  defined  elsewhere  as  "  Atheism  in  domino."  Since 
Disraeli's  death  the  German  school  has  made  further  strides. 
There  has  been  a  brisk  export  of  fresh  theories  "  made  in 
Germany."  We  are  now  told  that  the  Old  Testament  is 
Babylonian,  and  that  the  New  springs  out  of  Aryan  ideas  ; 
and  side  by  side  with  this  tonr-de-force  of  paradox,  an  orgy  of 
anarchical  hysteria  threatens  the  sanctions  of  authority,  the 
secular  as  well  as  the  spiritual.  Disraeli  would  probably  meet 
it  by  what  he  retorted  in  the  'sixties,  that  when  the  periodical 
'  That  of  Strauss. 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         167 

deluge  subsides,  the  ark  is  seen  resting  at  the  summit  of  the 
mountain. 

But  if  education  was  to  be  secularised,  might  not  the  ark 
be  chopped  up  for  firewood  ?  Education  was  a  problem  that, 
in  its  private  and  public  aspects,  engrossed  Disraeli  from  his 
youth.  In  the  second  of  two  election  addresses  at  High 
Wycombe  in  the  memorable  year  1832  he  had  announced: 
"...  By  repealing  the  taxes  upon  knowledge,  I  would  throw 
the  education  of  the  people  into  the  hands  of  the  philosophic 
student,  instead  of  the  ignorant  adventurer."  He  believed 
that  its  current  principles  were  constantly  wrong — that  words 
were  taught  instead  of  ideas,  and  grammar  studied  instead  of 
character ;  and  he  was  also  a  great  advocate  of  the  wisdom 
of  steeping  the  youth  of  a  nation  in  national  literature.  It 
was  a  keen  disappointment  to  him  that  he  was  deprived  of 
the  occasion  of  settling— partially,  at  any  rate — the  problem 
of  national  education,  and  he  considered  that  the  less  it  was 
fettered  by  direct  State  interference  and  the  more  it  was 
helped  by  State  support,  the  better.  He  was  persuaded  that 
any  national  system  ought  to  be  religious.  For  the  Church's 
original  training  of  the  people,  for  her  alliance  with  the 
Universities,  too,  he  had  the  keenest  admiration. 

"Nothing  is  more  surprising  to  me,"  he  urged  in  1872, 
"  than  .  .  .  that  in  the  nineteenth  century  the  charge  against 
the  Church  of  England  should  be  that  Churchmen,  and 
especially  the  clergy,  had  educated  the  people.  ...  I  think 
the  greatest  distinction  of  the  clergy  is  the  admirable  manner 
in  which  they  have  devoted  their  lives  and  fortunes  to  this 
greatest  of  national  objects."  ^ 

It  may  not  be  generally  remembered  that  only  two  years 
after  Disraeli  entered  the  House  of  Commons  he  delivered 
himself  of  a  remarkable  speech  in  this  connection.  He  was 
opposed,  he  said,  at  that  time  to  a  strictly  State  system,  for 
he  was  opposed  to  "paternal  government,  which  stamped  out 
the  sense  of  independence  in  man,  and  caused  him  to  rely 

'  In  the  Croker  Papers  will  be  found  a  masterly  letter  from  Sir 
Robert  Peel  on  the  importance  of  the  Church  rising  to  her  educational 
opportunities.  It  was  Peel's  foresight  that  produced  the  National  Schools. 
Peel,  though  latitudinarian,  was  a  Church  statesman. 


i68  DISRAELI 

upon  others,"  Society  should  be  strong,  and  the  State  weak  ; 
order  should  not  be  disturbed  by  national  injustice,  nor  liberty 
by  popular  outcry.  "  //  is  ahoays  the  State  and  never  Society — 
ahvays  macJiinery  and  never  sympathy ^  But  though  he  did  not 
change  the  principles  of  his  outlook,  he  came  by  experience 
very  materially  to  change  his  view  of  the  machinery  by  which 
they  were  to  be  applied.  He  detested  the  interferences  of 
centralisation  ;  but  a  doubled  population  and  the  overgrowth 
of  cities  rendered  State  measures  imperative,  and  their 
absence  a  disgrace.  In  his  Edinburgh  speech,  twenty-eight 
years  later,  he  thus  handled  this  national  need  :  "...  Ever 
since  I  have  been  in  public  life  I  have  done  everything  I 
possibly  could  to  promote  the  cause  of  the  education  of  the 
people  generally.  I  have  done  so  because  I  always  felt  that 
with  the  limited  population  of  this  United  Kingdom,  com- 
pared with  the  great  imperial  position  which  it  occupies  with 
reference  to  other  nations,  it  is  not  only  our  duty,  but  .  .  . 
an  absolute  necessity,  thai  we  should  study  to  make  every  man 
the  most  effective  being  that  ediicatioti  can  possibly  constitute 
him.  In  the  old  wars  there  used  to  be  a  story  that  one 
Englishman  could  beat  three  members  of  some  other  nation. 
But  /  think  if  we  ivatit  to  maintain  our  power,  we  ought  to 
make  one  Englishman  equal  really  iii  the  business  of  life  to 
three  other  men  that  any  other  nation  cati  furnish.  I  do  not 
see  otherwise  how  ...  we  can  fulfil  the  great  destiny  that  I 
believe  awaits  us,  and  the  great  position  we  occupy. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  he  forecasts  the  practical  and 
technical  requirements  which,  at  a  period  of  comparative  com- 
mercial decline,  we  are  only  now  beginning  to  take  to  heart. 

"  Therefore,"  he  resumed,  "  so  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
whether  it  be  a  far  greater  advanced  system  of  primary  educa- 
tion—whether it  be  that  system  of  competitive  examination 
which  I  have  ever  supported,  though  I  am  not  unconscious 
of  some  pedantry  with  which  it  is  associated — or  whatever 
may  be  the  circumstances,  I  shall  ever  be  its  supporter." 

He  kept  his  word.  Leading  the  Opposition  in  1870,  he 
supported  Mr.  Forster's  great  measure,  though  he  strongly 
opposed  the  Cowper-Temple  Amendment — one  which  has 
undoubtedly  kept  much  religious  acrimony  ahve.     His  speech 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         169 

on  these  clauses  can  still  be  studied  with  advantage.  In 
1854,  Lord  John  Russell  introduced  his  bill  for  the  "good 
government  of  the  University  of  Oxford."  Here,  again, 
Disraeli  objected  to  undue  Government  interference.  He 
thought  that  this  "  great  seat  of  learning  "  should  deal  with 
these  problems  itself  independently,  and  in  the  spirit  of  the 
age.  It  was  designed  to  create  professors  on  the  Prussian 
model.  Disraeli  showed  that  in  Prussia  there  was  then  small 
"sphere  for  the  genius,  the  intellect,  the  talent,  and  the 
energy  of  Germany,  except  in  the  professorial  chair."  There 
were  not  then  great  opportunities  for  a  public  career  in 
Germany.  "In  this  country  you  may  increase  the  salaries  as 
you  please  ;  but  to  suppose  that  you  can  produce  a  class  of 
men  like  the  German  professors  is  chimerical.  .  .  .  We  are  a 
nation  of  action,  and  you  may  depend  upon  it  that,  however 
you  may  increase  the  rewards  of  professors  .  .  .  ambition  in 
England  will  look  to  public  life.  .  .  .  You  will  not  be  able, 
however  you  think  you  may,  to  lay  your  hand  upon  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  professors  suddenly,  capable  of  effecting  a  great 
influence  on  the  youth  of  England.  You  cannot  get  these 
men  at  once.  It  will  be  slowly,  with  great  difficulty,  by 
fostering  and  cultivating  your  resources,  that  you  will  be  able 
to  produce  one  of  these  great  professors — a  man  able  to 
influence  the  public  opinion  of  the  University.  Whether,  then, 
you  look  to  the  great  change  which  you  propose  with  respect 
to  these  private  halls,  which  is  in  fact  a  revolution  of  the 
collegiate  system  ;  or  whether  you  look  to  the  great  alteration 
you  contemplate  by  the  revival  of  the  professorial  instead  of  the 
tutorial  system — ^on  both  points  you  will  meet,  I  think,  with  dis- 
appointment. ...  If  I  were  asked,  'Would  you  have  Oxford, 
with  its  self-government,  freedom,  independence,  but  yet  with 
its  anomalies  and  imperfections  ;  or  would  you  have  the  Uni- 
versity free  from  those  anomalies  and  imperfections  and  under 
control  of  the  Government  ? '  I  would  say,  '  Give  me  Oxford 
free  and  independent,  with  its  anomalies  and  imperfections.'  "  ^ 

'  I  may  add  that  what  Disraeli  resented  in  Gladstone's  thwarted 
proposals  for  his  Catholic  University  scheme  was  that  it  sought  to  exclude 
theology  and  philosophy — an  exception  unworthy  of  any  "  Universitas 
rerum,"  and  deeply  repugnant  to  the  Catholics. 


I70  DISRAELI 

In  the  discipline  of  the  Church  itself  also  Disraeli 
eventually  found  it  imperative  for  the  State  to  interfere.  With 
extreme  Ritualism,  with  amateur  popery  in  an  alien  camp, 
eflfetely  and  sometimes  treacherously  practised,  till  the  in- 
subordination of  a  few,  who  were  not  in  any  sense  strong 
men  or  leaders,  began  to  infect  the  many,  Disraeli  could  not 
sympathise.  The  Mass  of  the  Roman  Church  as  a  solemn 
act  he  could  reverence,  but  not  the  "  masquerade "  of 
amateur  ultramontanes.  With  the  High  Anglicans,  with  the 
Tractarians,  he  in  many  respects  sympathised  profoundly. 
Their  movements  were  those  of  noble  aspiration  and  high 
endeavour.  But  most  of  the  ultra-Ritualists  were  of  wholly 
different  calibre.  Their  attitude  he  typified  most  humorously 
in  Lothair,  and  in  the  person  of  the  "  Reverend  Dionysius 
Smylie,"  who  was  wont  to  observe,  "  Rome  will  come  to  vie!' 
Moreover,  the  Church  had  passed  rapidly  through  varying 
vicissitudes.  In  the  late  'thirties  and  early  'forties  there  had 
been  a  signal  revival ;  but  the  secession  of  Newman,  "  apolo- 
gised for  but  never  explained,"  had  proved  a  blow  under 
which  "  the  Church  still  reels."  She  lost  a  great,  a  generous, 
a  necessary  leader,  when  a  leader  was  her  need.  "  If,"  Dis- 
raeli wrote  in  1870,  "a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  there  had 
arisen  a  Churchman  equal  to  the  occasion,  the  position  of 
ecclesiastical  affairs  in  this  country  would  have  been  very 
different  from  that  which  they  now  occupy.  But  these  great 
matters  fell  into  the  hands  of  monks  and  Schoolmen.  .  .  ." 

In  the  'fifties  there  was  some  degeneration,  and  the 
revival  of  Convocation  was  not  on  the  wider  basis  which 
might  have  quickened  clerical  energy  and  lay  enthusiasm. 
In  the  'sixties  the  Church  began  to  be  "in  danger."  Radical- 
ism and  Ritualism  united  ;  and  there  is  a  manuscript  letter 
of  Disraeli,  still  extant,  written  at  this  period,  and  affording 
some  very  interesting  and  secret  knowledge. 

What  Disraeli  disliked  and  regretted  was  that  the  choice 
between  faith  and  free  thought  should  be  more  and  more 
presented  as  one  between  the  Roman  purple  and  the  "Red 
Republic." 

And  this  brings  me  to  the  consideration  of  Disraeli's  ideas 
regarding  the  Latin  Church,  the  immortal  Rome,  "  that  great 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         171 

confederacy  which  has  so  much  influenced  the  human  race, 
and  which  has  yet  to  play  perhaps  a  mighty  part  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  world." 

This  imperial  form  of  Theocracy  exercised  for  him,  both 
imaginatively  and  historically,  an  enormous  attraction.  Its 
special  appeal  to  the  Latin  and  Celtic  races  ;  its  unbroken 
phalanx  of  organisation  ;  its  immemorial  persistence  of 
policy  ;  its  creative  combination  of  spirituality  with  art,  of 
purity  with  beauty  ;  its  union  of  ideals  beyond  and  above  the 
world  with  the  mechanism  of  empires ;  its  blend  of  con- 
trasts, of  solemn  softness  with  sombre  control,  of  charm  with 
coldness,  of  callousness  with  charity,  of  loneliness  with  society, 
of  curse  and  comfort  ;  its  theoretic  espousal  of  theological 
free  will  with  the  practical  denial  of  it  in  action,  and  of  out- 
ward pomp  with  inward  simplicity  ;  its  watchful  intimacies 
with  every  moment  of  life — the  way  in  which,  as  he  puts  it 
in  Contarini,  it  " .  .  .  produces  in  "  its  "  dazzling  processions 
and  sacred  festivals  an  effect  upon  the  business  of  the  day  ; " 
its  guardianship  of  the  weak,  the  erring,  and  the  poor  ;  its 
nursing  motherhood  of  doubt  and  despair  ;  its  insidious  cap- 
tivation  of  the  will  and  intellect  ;  its  power  to  recall  and 
continue  the  spirits  of  the  centuries,  to  absorb  schism  and 
rebaptise  it  union  ;  its  claims  to  obliterate  the  past  for  the 
penitent ;  to  keep  all  things  old  and  make  all  things  new  ; 
its  great  deeds  and  its  great  heroes  ;  these  elements  and 
many  more,  that  have  cooped  Jews  in  Ghettos  while  blazon- 
ing the  proud  inscription  in  front  of  St.  Peter's,  Vicit  Leo  de 
tribu  Jtida, — all  these  opposites  enchant  even  when  they  fail 
to  enchain  the  mind  and  the  feelings.  They  have  linked  the 
Vatican  and  the  Palatine,  the  see  to  the  throne,  the  tiara  to 
the  diadem.  They  have  transfigured,  while  maintaining, 
pagan  rites  and  customs,  till  "  Madre  Natura  "  reappears  with 
a  halo,  the  very  shrines  of  the  Madonna  repeat  the  antique 
pattern  of  those  dedicated  to  the  Lares  and  Penates,  and  the 
procession  of  waxen  images  in  Southern  Italy  but  perpetuates 
another  and  an  older  ceremony.  The  Roman  Church  has 
been  the  most  consistent  educator,  the  greatest  organiser, 
the  most  universal  legislator  of  the  last  thousand  years.  It 
has  attained  uncompromising  ends  unswervingly  pursued  by 


172  DISRAELI 

compromises  the  most  subtle  and  the  most  skilful.  Nor  is  the 
esoteric  doctrine  which  recalls  the  Eleusinian  Mysteries,  and 
enables  the  initiated  to  regard  forms  comprehensible  by  the 
multitude  as  merely  popular  symbols  of  higher  truths,  without 
a  certain  glamour  of  its  own.  Disraeli's  father  had  penned 
a  treatise  on  the  Jesuits,  and  their  history  had  been  deeply 
studied  by  the  son.  I  can  still  recall  the  unconscious  tone  of 
ironical  appreciation  with  which  one  of  those  "professors," 
"capable  of  effecting  a  great  influence  on  the  youth  of 
England,"  informed  me  that  when  he  met  Disraeli,  "  he  spoke 
to  me  of  the  Jesuits."  Both  the  two  factors  in  himself  which 
I  have  mentioned,  the  sense  of  mystery  and  the  impulse  to 
control,  are  precisely  the  atmosphere  of  the  Papal  Church. 
There  was,  therefore,  to  some  extent  the  attraction  of  affinity. 
But  the  Papacy  appealed  to  him  imaginatively,  not  theo- 
logically, as  it  did  to  his  great  rival.  I  recollect  being  told 
by  a  member  of  the  symposium  that  Gladstone  once  discussed 
deep  into  the  night  at  Hawarden  what  form  of  Christianity 
would  eventually  survive  and  prevail.  Three  chosen  friends 
agreed  with  him  that  it  would  be  Romanism,  the  establisher 
and  not  the  establishment,  the  supernational  and  not  the 
national,  theocratic  and  not  (as  Disraeli  makes  one  of  his 
characters  describe  the  Church  of  England)  "parliamentary 
Christianity." 

Not  so  Disraeli.  Its  political  influences,  its  "  clamour  for 
toleration,"  its  "  labour  for  supremacy,"  ^  its  warping  limita- 
tions, its  prying  priestcraft,  its  humble  haughtiness,  its  casuis- 
tic candour,  its  centralising  forces  fatal  to  Northern  liberty, 
the  ban  placed  on  free  discussion  and  free  intercourse,  its 
proclamation  of  the  uniformity  rather  than  of  the  unity  of 
human  nature,  and  above  all  its  admixture  of  paganism,  were 
the  drawbacks  that  repelled  him.  "The  tradition  of  the 
Anglican  Church  was  powerful,"  he  observes,  adverting  to 
that  "  mistake  and  misfortune "  of  Newman's  desertion. 
"  Resting  on  the  Church  of  Jerusalem,  modified  by  the  divine 
school  of  Galilee,  it  would  have  found  that  rock  of  truth 
which  Providence,  by  the  instrumentality  of  the  Semitic  race, 
had  promised  to  St.  Peter.  Instead  of  that,  the  seceders 
1  Letter  to  D.  O'Connell,  1835. 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY        173 

sought  refuge  in  mediaeval  superstitions  which  are  generally 
the  embodiments  of  pagan  ceremonies  and  creeds."  ^ 

The  spell  of  Romanism  is  an  incident  in  Contarini 
Fleming.  The  spell,  but  also  the  perils  of  Romanism,  its 
bewitchment  of  judgment  and  of  conscience,  its  repugnance 
to  free  politics  and  independent  wills,  its  arrogance  of  inspir- 
ation, its  monopolies,  its  burdens  of  enjoined  etiquette,  form 
the  theme  of  Lothair.  He  cannot  bind  himself  to  the  danger, 
yet  how  adorable  is  its  source !  How  firm  the  rock  on  which 
it  is  founded,  when  it  is  not  of  offence  !  How  certain  the 
conclusions,  if  only  the  premises  can  be  conceded  ! 

"  Religion  is  civilisation,"  said  the  Cardinal — "  the  highest : 
it  is  a  reclamation  of  man  from  savageness  by  the  Almighty. 
What  the  world  calls  civilisation,  as  distinguished  from 
religion,  is  a  retrograde  movement,  and  will  ultimately  lead 
us  back  to  the  barbarism  from  which  we  have  escaped.  For 
instance,  you  talk  of  progress  :  what  is  the  chief  social  move- 
ment of  all  the  centuries  that  three  centuries  ago  separated 
from  the  unity  of  the  Church  of  Christ  1  The  rejection  of  the 
Sacrament  of  Christian  matrimony.  The  introduction  of 
the  law  of  divorce,  which  is,  in  fact,  only  a  middle  term  to 
the  abolition  of  marriage.  What  does  that  mean  }  The 
extinction  of  the  home  and  household  on  which  God  has  rested 
civilisation.  If  there  be  no  home,  the  child  belongs  to  the 
State,  not  to  the  parent.  The  State  educates  the  child,  and 
without  religion,  because  the  State  in  a  country  of  progress 
acknowledges  no  religion.^  For  every  man  is  not  only  to 
think  as  he  likes,  but  to  write  and  speak  as  he  likes.  .  .  . 
And  this  system  which  would  substitute  for  domestic  senti- 
ment and  Divine  belief  the  unlimited  and  licentious  action  of 
human  intelligence  and  will,  is  called  progress.  What  is  it 
but  a  revolt  against  God  }  " 

What  religious  intelligence  would  not  endorse  these 
truths  !  But  let  us  now  listen  to  the  other  side,  that  of 
" other-worldliness,"    of    "the    conversion — or    conquest    of 

1  This  has  been  elaborately  developed  by  Bolingbroke  in  his 
"  Philosophical  Works." 

*  How  true  this  has  now  proved  itself  in  France  ! 


174  DISIMELI 

England,"  though  the  allusions  to  "  Corybantic  Christianity" 
arc  not  without  justice. 

"  There  is  only  one  Church  and  one  Religion,"  said  the 
Cardinal  ;  "  all  other  forms  and  phrases  are  mere  phantasms, 
without  root  or  substance  or  coherency.  Look  at  that  un- 
happy Germany,  once  so  proud  of  its  Reformation.  .  ,  .  Look 
at  this  unfortunate  land,  divided,  subdivided,  parcelled  out  in 
infinite  schism,  with  new  oracles  every  day,  and  each  more 
distinguished  for  the  narrowness  of  his  intellect  or  the  loud- 
ness of  his  lungs ;  once  the  land  of  saints  and  scholars, 
and  people  in  pious  pilgrimages,  and  finding  always  solace 
and  support  in  the  Divine  offices  of  an  ever-present  Church  ; 
which  were  a  true,  though  a  faint  type  of  the  beautiful  future 
that  awaited  man.  Why,  only  three  centuries  of  this  rebellion 
against  the  Most  High  have  produced  ...  an  anarchy  of 
opinion,  throwing  out  every  monstrous  and  fantastic  form, 
from  a  caricature  of  the  Greek  Philosophy  to  a  revival  of 
Feticism.  .  .  .  The  Church  of  England  is  not  the  Church  of 
the  English.  Its  fate  is  sealed.  It  will  soon  become  a  sect, 
and  all  sects  are  fantastic.  It  will  adopt  new  dogmas,  or  it 
will  abjure  old  ones  ;  anything  to  distinguish  it  from  the  Non- 
conforming herd  in  which  nevertheless  it  will  be  its  fate  to 
merge.  .  .  ." 

"  I  cannot  admit,"  replied  the  Cardinal,  "  that  the  Church  is 
in  antagonism  with  political  freedom.  On  the  contrary,  in 
my  opinion,  there  can  be  no  political  freedom  which  is  not 
founded  on  Divine  authority  ;  otherwise  it  can  be  at  the  best 
but  a  specious  phantom  of  licence  inevitably  terminating  in 
anarchy.  The  rights  and  liberties  of  the  people  of  Ireland 
have  no  advocate  except  the  Church,  because  there  political 
freedom  is  founded  on  Divine  authority  ;  but  if  you  mean  by 
political  freedom  the  schemes  of  the  illuminati  and  the  Free- 
masons, which  perpetually  torture  the  Continent,  all  the  dark 
conspiracies  of  the  secret  societies,  then  I  admit  the  Church  is 
in  antagonism  with  such  aspirations  after  liberty  ;  those  aspira- 
tions, in  fact,  are  blasphemy  and  plunder.  And  if  the  Church 
were  to  be  destroyed,  Europe  would  be  divided  between 
the  atheist  and  the  communist." 

This  last  opinion  is  Disraeli's  own.     None  knew  better,  or 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY        175 

realised  more,  the  disintegrating  terrors  of  the  secret  societies, 
the  propaganda  of  desperation  served  by  desperadoes  and 
exploited  by  soldiers  of  fortune. 

Disraeli  appreciated  and  often  testified  that  Roman  Chris- 
tianity had  pre-eminently  spiritualised  the  once  undecayed 
Latin  races.  To  its  services  and  ideals  he  always  paid  the 
deepest  homage  ;  for  some  of  them  he  displayed  an  evident 
affection.  Nowhere  has  the  higher  aspiration  of  Romanism 
been  portrayed  more  touchingly  than  in  the  person  of  "  Clare 
Arundel."  The  description  in  that  book  of  the  Tenebrce 
vibrates  with  delicate  emotion.  In  the  same  book  he  foresees 
the  erection  on  the  site  of  slums  of  the  stately  fane  which  now 
adorns  Westminster.  His  public  utterances  on  Ireland,  on  the 
Maynooth  question,  and  many  others,  his  ardent  champion- 
ship of  the  bill  which  secured  the  offices  of  his  priest  for 
the  Catholic  prisoner,  showed  not  only  respect,  but  a 
sympathy  and  conversance  with  Roman  affairs  passing  that 
of  ordinary  statesmen.  But,  as  a  statesman,  he  also  realised 
that  the  Roman  Church  was  not  only  hostile  to  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  instincts,  but  has  always  claimed  a  despotic  temporal 
dominion ;  and  he  also  realised  not  only  the  earlier  and 
far-reaching  designs  of  Cardinal  Wiseman,  but  the  later 
diplomacies  of  a  definite  scheme  for  the  capture,  now  that 
absolutism  is  on  the  wane,  of  democracy.  Rome  means  to  be 
the  sole  absolutism  that  shall  survive.  What  Disraeli  dreaded 
and  countervailed  was  the  new-fangled  alliance,  not  only 
between  Radicalism,  but  between  Liberalism  and  Romanism. 
In  Ireland,  as  I  shall  show,  a  peculiar  phase  of  the  design  was 
apparent,  and  what  Rome  had  manoeuvred  she  came  to 
deplore  and  even  to  struggle  to  prevent.  In  Lothair,  "  Mon- 
signor  Berwick,"  Antonelli's  ultramontane  disciple,  is  made  to 
say  of  "  Churchill,"  the  leader  of  Irish  Nationalism,  "  For  the 
chance  of  subverting  the  Anglican  establishment,  he  is  favour- 
ing a  policy  which  will  subvert  religion  itself." 

In  later  times  the  famous  encyclical  Reruni  Novarwn^ 
Monsignor  Ireland  and  the  "  Knights  of  Labour  "  in  America, 
Cardinal  Manning  and  the  London  Dock  strikers,  are  an 
evidence  that  Disraeli's  insight  was  sound. 

The   people    as   a    Civitas   Dei — the   Church-State — is  a 


176  DISRAELI 

superb  ideal,  one  with  which  Disraeli  was  in  heartfelt  accord. 
But  under  what  national  forms  is  this  to  be  compassed  in 
England  ?  i\  desire  that  Anglican  orders  should  be  con- 
firmed by  the  Bishop  of  Rome  has  been  during  the  last  few 
years  publicly  advanced  by  dignitaries  of  our  own  Church. 
Is  the  Roman  system  capable  of  satisfying  the  progressive 
demands  of  the  masses  in  England  ?  Though  their  sordid 
homes  need  purifying,  will  they  ever  tolerate  the  intrusion  of 
their  privacy  by  celibate  priests  ?  Is  a  doctrinal  absolutism, 
which  the  people  themselves  have  dethroned  from  political 
ascendency,  likely  to  consummate  the  cosmopolitan  dream  } 
State  socialism  divorced  from  ecclesiastical  dominion  would 
never  for  one  moment  enlist  the  Pope.  And  if  some  form 
even  of  State  socialism  ever  became  national  (and  Disraeli 
could  have  withstood  it  to  the  death),  how  could  Catholic 
socialism  control  the  socialism  of  the  State }  Can  the 
supreme  voice  of  God  brook  the  admonitions  of  the  voice  of 
the  people  ? 

Lothair  treats  more  especially  of  the  diplomacies  of  Rome, 
and  perhaps  the  polite  struggle  at  "  Muriel  Towers,"  between  the 
Cardinal  and  the  Bishop  for  the  hero's  soul,  is  one  of  Disraeli's 
most  finished  pieces  of  humour.  "  The  Anglicans  have  only 
a  lease  of  our  property,  a  lease  rapidly  expiring,"  ejaculates 
"  Monsignor  Berwick."  This  imminent  expiry  of  the  lease  is 
undoubtedly  a  cherished  hope  of  the  Vatican  and  Sacred 
College. 

"Lothair,"  it  will  be  remembered,  himself  an  earnest  if 
somewhat  ineffectual  youth,  falls  under  the  influence  of  "  Lady 
St.  Jerome,"  whose  houses  are  rallying-centres  for  the  great 
Cardinal  and  his  associates.  "Lady  St.  Jerome"  induces 
"  Lothair "  to  attend  the  office  of  the  Tenebrce.  He  is  told 
that  nothing  in  this  particular  service  can  prevent  a  Protestant 
from  attending  it.  This  is  followed  by  the  master-gardener, 
"  Father  Coleman's  "  comments  on  the  adoration  of  the  Cross 
in  the  Mass  of  the  Pre-Sanctified,  and  a  picnic  with  "  Miss 
Arundel "  and  the  courtly  "  Monsignor  Catesby."  "  The 
Jesuits  are  wise  men  ;  they  never  lose  their  temper.  They 
know  when  to  avoid  scenes  as  well  as  when  to  make  them." 
"  Lothair,"  under  the  banner  of  his  heroine,  "  Theodora,"  fights 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         177 

for  Garibaldi  and  the  "  Mad  re  Natura"  against  the  Papal 
troops.  He  is  wounded  at  Mentana,  and,  by  a  coincidence, 
tended  by  "  Clare  Arundel "  and  her  Roman  circle.  On  his 
recovery,  a  miracle  is  announced  concerning  his  rescue.  The 
Virgin  has  interposed  to  save  a  defender  of  the  Faith.  He 
is  led  to  a  great  function  in  the  sacristy  of  St.  George  of 
Cappadocia.  He  finds  himself  the  centre  of  devout  attrac- 
tion. The  Cardinal  assures  him  that  the  miracle  is  true. 
"Lothair"  indignantly  protests  and  denies.  The  Cardinal 
maintains  that  there  are  two  "  narratives  of  his  relations  with 
the  battle  of  Mentana."  "  If  I  were  you,  I  would  not  dwell 
too  much  on  this  fancy  of  yours  about  the  battle."  ..."  I  am 
not  convinced,"  said  "  Lothair."  "  P^sh  ! "  said  the  Cardinal  ; 
"  the  freaks  of  your  own  mind  about  personal  incidents,  how- 
ever lamentable,  may  be  viewed  with  indulgence,  at  least  for 
a  time.  But  you  cannot  be  permitted  to  doubt  of  the  rest. 
You  must  be  convinced,  and,  on  reflection,  you  will  be  con- 
vinced. Remember,  sir,  where  you  are.  You  are  in  the 
centre  of  Christendom,  where  truth,  and  where  alone  truth 
resides." 

Nobody  for  one  moment  would  believe  that  the  illustrious 
Archbishop  of  Westminster  debased  strategy  to  stratagem  ; 
or  could  under  any  circumstances  have  resorted  to  a  deliberate 
lie.  Lothair  is  a  satirical  fairy-tale,  and  "  Cardinal  Grandi- 
son "  is  only  an  outward  semblance  of  the  late  Cardinal 
Manning.  But  this  passage  sheds  a  true  light  on  Rome's 
attitude  towards  doubt,  and  her  methods  of  proselytising  ;  it 
shadows  her  secular  policy.  Can  any  one  deny  that  "  the 
truth  with  a  mental  reserve  "  of  Jesuitry  composes  much  of 
the  plot  in  the  drama  of  the  hierarchy }  Moreover,  the 
passage  agrees  with  a  very  remarkable  one  in  a  distinguished 
French  novel  that  appeared  three  years  afterwards — "  L Abbe 
Tigrane,"  by  M.  Fabre.  Long  after  these  events,  when 
"  Lothair "  comes  of  age,  his  guardian,  the  same  Cardinal, 
converses  with  him  on  the  impending  QEcumenical  Council. 
The  duologue  contains  a  forcible  summary  of  the  Church's 
infallibility,  however  fallible  may  seem  her  individual 
members : — 

"The  basis  on  which  God  has  willed  that  His  revelation 

N 


178  DISRAELI 

should  rest  in  the  world  is  the  testimony  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  which,  if  considered  only  as  a  human  historical  wit- 
ness of  its  own  origin,  constitution,  and  authority,  affords  the 
highest  and  most  enduring  evidence  for  the  facts  and  contents 
of  the  Christian  religion.  If  this  be  denied,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  history.  But  the  Catholic  Church  is  not  only  a 
human  and  historical  witness  of  its  own  origin,  constitution, 
and  authority,  it  is  also  a  supernatural  and  Divine  ivitness, 
which  can  neither  fail  nor  err.  When  it  cecumenically  speaks, 
it  is  not  merely  the  voice  of  the  Father  of  the  World  ;  it 
declares  '  luhat  it  hath  seemed  good  to  the  Holy  Ghost  and 
to  us.' " 

No  wonder  that  "  Lc^thair,"  sitting  down  in  the  crisis  of 
his  life  by  the  moonlit  Coliseum,  muses  in  a  rhapsody  of 
the  magnetism  for  opposed  causes  of  the  genius  of  the  spot, 
strangely  anticipating  Zola's  contrast  between  the  new  Italian 
*'  Orlando  "  and  the  old  Italian  "Boccanera." 

"Theodora  lived  for  Rome  and  died  for  Rome.  And  the 
Cardinal,  born  and  bred  an  English  gentleman,  with  many 
hopes  and  honours,  had  renounced  his  religion  and,  it  might 
be  said,  his  country,  for  Rome  ;  and  his  race  for  three  hundred 
years  had  given,  for  the  same  cause,  honour,  and  broad 
estates,  and  unhesitating  lives.  And  these  very  people  were 
influenced  by  different  motives,  and  thought  they  were 
devoting  themselves  to  opposite  ends.  But  still  it  was  Rome  ; 
Republican  or  Caesarian,  papal  or  pagan,  it  still  was  Rome." 

I  have  shown  the  sources,  as  I  believe,  of  Disraeli's  con- 
victions. He  was  the  first  to  dwell  on  those  problems  of 
race  which  are  now  recognised.  His  derided  "Asian 
mystery"  has  been  amply  justified.  His  view  of  the  "Cau- 
casian "  is  that  of  subsequent  science.  Writing  nearly  forty 
years  after  he  had  mooted  his  ideas,  he  observed  :  "  familiar 
as  we  all  are  now  with  such  themes  ...  the  difficulty  and 
hazard  of  touching  for  the  first  time  on  such  topics  cannot 
now  be  easily  appreciated."  His  beliefs  were  racial,  and 
depended  on  the  clue  of  race  to  history.  Their  applications, 
however,  were  national.  For  he  knew  that  race  is  only  an 
element  among  the  shared  associations  and  common  language, 
customs  and  history,  that  make  up  that  ideal  assembly  which 


CHURCH   AND   THEOCRACY         179 

is  called  a  nation  ;  and  he  also  knew  that  mere  communica- 
tion is  not  communion  ;  that  the  rapidity  of  increased  methods 
of  material  intercourse  will  never  extinguish  the  slow,  but 
certain,  fires  of  race  discord,  which  can  only  "consume  its 
own  smoke  "  through  the  free  fusion  of  nationality. 

His  own  race  he  cleared  from  prejudice,  and  proudly  dis- 
played as  a  potent,  if  sometimes  hidden,  force  throughout  the 
world.  His  praise  and  illustration  of  its  endowments,  its 
strength  by  virtue  of  its  purity  of  strain,  its  tenacity  and 
power  of  organisation,  its  veiled  ramifications  among  the 
mainsprings  that  move  Governments  and  alter  systems,  no 
longer  raise  a  smile  ;  and  if  they  did,  they  would  certainly 
cease  to  do  so  when  placed  on  the  lips  of  Macaulay,  who 
thus  treated  them — 

"He  knows,"  said  Macaulay,  speaking  in  1833  of  the 
member  for  the  University  of  Oxford — "he  knows  that  in 
the  infancy  of  civilisation,  when  our  island  was  as  savage  as 
New  Guinea,  when  letters  and  arts  were  still  unknown  to 
Athens,  when  scarcely  a  thatched  hut  stood  on  what  was 
afterwards  the  site  of  Rome,  this  contemned  people  had 
their  fenced  cities  and  cedar  palaces,  their  splendid  Temple, 
their  fleets  of  merchant  ships,  their  schools  of  sacred  learn- 
ing, their  great  statesmen  and  soldiers,  their  natural  philo- 
sophers, their  historians  and  their  poets.  .  .  .  Let  us  open 
to  them  every  career  in  which  ability  and  energy  can  be 
displayed.  Till  we  have  done  this,  let  us  not  presume  to 
say  that  there  is  no  genius  among  the  countrymen  of  Isaiah, 
or  heroism  among  the  descendants  of  the  Maccabees." 


CHAPTER   V 
MONARCHY 

"  r  I  10  change  back  the  oligarchy  into  a  generous  aris- 
I  tocracy  round  a  real  throne','  Disraeli  ranks,  with 

X  his  ideal  mission  towards  the  Church,  as  "  the  trainer 
of  the  nation  ; "  towards  Labour,  to  "  the  moral 
and  physical  condition  of  the  people;"  towards  Ireland,  by 
governing  it  "  according  to  the  policy  of  Charles  I.,  and  not 
of  Oliver  Cromwell ; "  to  Reform,  by  emancipating  "  the 
political  constituency  of  1832  from  its  sectarian  bondage  and 
contracted  sympathies." 

"  Sovereignty,"  he  says,  in  the  peroration  to  Sybil,  "  has 
been  the  title  of  something  that  has  had  no  dominion,  while 
absolute  power  has  been  wielded  by  those  who  profess  them- 
selves the  servants  of  the  people.  In  the  selfish  strife  of 
factions,  two  great  existences  have  been  blotted  out  of  the 
history  of  England — the  Monarch  and  the  Mjcltitude ;  as  the 
power  of  the  Crown  has  diminished,  the  privileges  of  the 
people  have  disappeared.  .  .  ."  Such  was  Disraeli's  sum- 
mary in  1870  of  what  inspired  "Young  England"  in  1840. 
The  more  real  is  representation,  the  greater  the  chances  of 
royalty.  De  Tocqueville,  too,  has  shown  that  it  was  just  the 
decay  of  mediaeval,  municipal  institutions  that  loosened  the 
hold  of  the  French  Crown  on  the  French  nation. 

The  "  real  throne,"  as  against  the  ornamental,  formed  a  very 
material  part  of  it.  It  chimed  with  Disraeli's  outlook  on 
English  institutions  as  "  popular,  but  not  democratic."  Since 
Sybil  was  written,  the  "  subject "  is  no  longer  "  a  serf,"  but 
for  a  long  time  the  "  sceptre  "  tended  to  remain  "  a  pageant." 
The  constitutional  possibilities  and  opportunities  of  kingship 
180 


MONARCHY  i8i 

under  our  limited  monarchy  are  even  now,  perhaps,  hardly 
realised.  Before  I  close  this  chapter,  I  intend  to  say  some- 
thing of  their  historical  lineage. 

There  is  a  satirical  passage  about  George  the  Fourth 
among  the  brilliant  flippancies  of  Vivian  Grey,  which  may 
amuse  us  before  coming  to  close  quarters  with  the  serious 
side  of  sovereignty :  "  The  first  great  duty  of  a  monarch  is  to 
know  how  to  bow  skilfully.  Nothing  is  more  difficult,  ...  a 
royal  bow  may  often  quell  a  rebellion,  and  sometimes  crush 
a  conspiracy.  Our  own  Sovereign  bows  to  perfection.  His 
bow  is  eloquent,  and  will  always  render  an  oration  .  .  .  un- 
necessary, which  is  a  great  point,  for  harangues  are  not  regal. 
Nothing  is  more  undignified  than  to  make  a  speech.  It  is 
from  the  first  an  acknowledgment  that  you  are  under  the 
necessity  of  explaining,  or  conciliating,  or  convincing,  or  con- 
futing ;  in  short,  that  you  are  not  omnipotent,  but  opposed." 

"The  Monarchy  of  the  Tories  is  more  democratic  than 
the  Republic  of  the  Whigs ! "  exclaimed  Disraeli,  as  I  have 
already  quoted,  in  his  early  Spirit  of  Whiggisjn.  "  I  think," 
cried  Canning  in  1812,  "thatwe  have  the  happiness  to  live 
under  a  limited  monarchy,  not  under  a  crowned  republic  ; " 
while,  six  years  later.  Canning  again  denounced  most  forcibly 
the  error  of  those  "  who  argue  as  if  the  constitution  of  this 
country  was  a  broad  and  level  democracy  inlaid  (for  orna- 
ment's sake)  with  a  peerage  and  topped  (by  sufferance)  with 
a  crown."  This  belief  inspired  the  same  statesman  when, 
towards  the  agitated  close  of  his  days,  he  speaks  in  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Croker  of  his  reliance  on  the  "vigour  of  the  Crown" 
in  conjunction  with  the  "  body  of  the  people." 

This,  too,  was  the  belief  that  inspired  Disraeli.  "  The 
monarch  and  the  multitude^  Monarchy  should  be  neither  a 
gewgaw  nor  an  abstraction,  but  a  centre  of  national  enthu- 
siasm. "  It  is  enthusiasm  alone  that  gives  flesh  and  blood  to 
the  skeletons  of  opinions."  From  the  beginning  of  the  first 
to  the  close  of  the  fifth  decade  of  last  century  kingship  had 
been  on  its  trial  in  England.  "  The  Tories,"  wrote  Disraeli 
in  The  Press,  "  already  recognised  the  necessity  of  employing 
all  the  popular  elements  of  the  Constitution  in  support  of  its 
monarchical  foundation." 


i82  DTSRAELl 

Just  as  I  have  shown  with  regard  to  the  Church,  his  pre- 
disposition lay  towards  pure  Theocracy,  but  his  practical  bent 
discerned  in  a  national  Church  its  aptest  and  most  congenial 
embodiment  ;  so  with  regard  to  kingship  his  predisposition  lay 
towards  pure  monarchy — royal  leadership — which  he  knew,  and 
indeed  hoped,  could  in  England  never  prove  absolute,  still 
less  arbitrary.  But  a  British  king  retains  the  great  advantage 
of  being  outside  the  prejudices  of  every  order  in  the  State 
of  which  he  is  the  social  chieftain.  The  tendency,  mused 
"  Sidonia,"  of  "  advanced  civilisation  was  to  '  pure  monarchy  ; '  " 
"  Monarchy  is  indeed  a  government  which  requires  a  high 
degree  of  civilisation  for  its  fulfilment."  Public  opinion, 
absorbing  so  many  functions  of  control,  training,  and  dis- 
cussion, should  find  in  the  king  a  disinterested  exponent.  "  In 
an  enlightened  age,  the  monarch  on  the  throne,  free  from  the 
vulgar  prejudices  and  the  corrupt  interests  of  the  subject, 
again  becomes  divine."  But  this  was  said  with  regard  to 
France,  and  in  answer  to  "  Coningsby's"  hazard  that  the  re- 
public of  that  country  might  absorb  its  kingdom,  and  Paris  ^ 
the  provinces.  It  was  a  dream.  None  felt  more  deeply  than 
Disraeli  that  English  tradition  was  the  temper  of  England. 
None,  more  than  he,  deprecated  centralisation.  The  very 
value  of  her  "  glorious  institutions  "  is,  as  he  often  insists,  that 
they  foster,  in  a  form  above  the  passions  of  momentary  out- 
burst or  fickle  reactions,  those  great  elements  of  loyalty, 
religion,  industry,  liberty,  and  order  which  have  conjoined 
to  make  and  keep  her  great.  Representing  classes,  they 
humanise  virtues.  The  problem  since  the  Revolution  has 
always  been  how  to  bring  the  varying  force  of  public  opinion, 
the  power  of  Parliament,  and  the  cabinet  system,  which  has 
gradually  crystallised,  into  line  with  the  ancient  and  bene- 
ficial personality  of  the  Crown  ;  in  later  times,  how  to  reconcile 
the  King  both  to  Downing  and  also  to  Fleet  Street ;  how  to 
harmonise  the  dependence  of  his  just  limits  with  the  indepen- 
dence of  his  just  influence  ;  how  to  render  him  no  mere 
roi  faineant,  or  marionette  to  be  danced  on  the  wires  of 
patricians  or  tribunes,  but  a  real  representative  individuality  ; 
how  he  may  rule  as  well  as  reign  ;  and  all  this,  in  this  country 

'  Elsewhere  Disraeli  said  that  Paris  always  remains  a  republic. 


MONARCHY  183 

and  in  this  century,  without  assuming  any  kind  of  either 
fatherly  or  of  stepfatherly  meddlesomeness  ;  for  the  "  Patriot 
King"  must  never  take  even  a  tinge  of  the  Patriarch.  He 
must  be  one,  whatever  else  he  may  be,  who  "  thinks  more  of 
the  community  and  less  of  the  government."  He  must,  in 
a  word,  bear  himself  as  a  chief,  and  not  as  a  master. 
As  Byron  sang,  bearing  Bolingbroke  in  mind — 

"  A  despot  thou,  and  yet  thy  people  free, 
And  by  the  hearty  not  hand,  enslaving  us." 

The  monarch,  thought  Disraeli,  embodies  the  national 
elements  in  a  form  of  abiding  and  unarbitrary  influence  ;  he 
is  above  interest  and  beyond  party  ;  his  position  prevents, 
his  functions  collide  with,  any  favouritism  of  any  class.  A 
King  at  one  with  public  opinion  can  prove  a  real  check  on 
individual  designs,  ministerial  mistakes,  private  cajoleries, 
public  passions.  "The  proper  leader  of  the  people  is  the 
individual  who  sits  upon  the  throne." 

" '  And  yet,'  said  Coningsby,  '  the  only  way  to  terminate 
what  is  called  class  legislation  is  not  to  entrust  power  to 
classes,  .  .  .  The  only  poiver  that  has  no  class  sympathy  is 
the  Sovereign! 

" '  But  suppose  the  case  of  an  arbitrary  Sovereign,  whaL 
would  be  your  check  against  him  } ' 

"  '  The  same  as  against  an  arbitrary  Parliament.' 

"  *  But  a  Parliament  is  responsible  ...  to  its  constituent 
body.' 

"  *  Suppose  it  was  to  vote  itself  perpetual .-' ' 

"  *  But  public  opinion  would  prevent  that' 

•"And  is  public  opinion  of  less  influence  on  an  individual 
than  on  a  body  ? ' 

"  '  But  public  opinion  may  be  indifferent.  A  nation  may 
be  misled — may  be  corrupt.' 

" '  If  the  nation  that  elects  the  Parliament  be  corrupt,  the 
elected  body  will  resemble  it.  .  .  .  But  this  only  shows 
that  there  is  something  to  be  considered  beyond  forms  of 
government — national  character.  .  .  .' 

"  *  But  do  you  then  declare  against  Parliamentary  govern- 
ment ? ' 


t84  DISRAELI 

"  '  Far  from  it.  /  look  upon  political  change  as  the  greatest 
of  evils,  for  it  comprehends  all.  Rut  if  we  have  no  faith  in 
the  permanence  of  the  existing  settlement — if  the  very  indi- 
viduals who  established  it  are  year  after  year  proposing 
their  modifications  or  their  reconstructions — so,  also,  while 
we  uphold  what  exists,  ought  we  to  prepare  ourselves  for  the 
change  we  deem  impending.  Now,  I  would  not  that  either 
ourselves  or  our  fellow-citizens  should  be  taken  unawares  as 
in  1832,  when  the  very  men  who  opposed  the  Reform  Bill 
offered  contrary  objections  to  it  which  destroyed  each  other, 
so  ignorant  were  they  of  its  real  character,  historical  causes, 
its  political  consequences.  .  ,  .  For  this  purpose  I  would 
accu.stom  the  public  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  an  existing 
though  torpid  power  in  the  constitution,  capable  of  removing 
our  social  grievances.  .  .  .  The  Ho7ise  of  Commons  is  the 
house  of  afeiv ;  the  Sovereign  is  the  sovereign  of  all!  " 

Now,  undoubtedly  the  period  to  which  these  words  refer 
was  one  when  certain  Whig  leaders  contemplated  an  oli- 
garchical republic,  and  wished  to  compass  their  aim  by  an 
undue  exaltation  of  the  Lower  House,  as,  in  1718,  Sunderland 
had  wished  to  attain  the  same  end  by  that  of  the  Upper.  No 
.student  of  the  Croker  Papers  can  fail  to  recognise  the 
tact,  and  undoubtedly  Disraeli  thought — and  Sir  Robert  Peel 
thought  so  too — that  the  times  were  ripe  for  reviving  those 
constitutional  prerogatives,  those  kingly  privileges  which 
form  the  Crown's  sole  direct  representative  faculty  in  the 
constitution,  of  which  the  Crown  had  long  been  robbed,  first 
by  its  own  alternate  abuse  or  incapacity  to  use  them,  after- 
wards by  faction  itself  often  imitating  the  royal  errors.  And 
so  the  executive  power  had  passed  almost  wholly  into 
ministerial  hands.  After  1830  the  prerogatives  which,  as  I 
shall  show,  Mr.  Gladstone  champions,  seemed  falling  into 
entire  abeyance.  In  1836,  before  he  had  entered  Parliament, 
Disraeli  had,  in  the  Rnnnyviede  Letters,  where  he  spoke  of 
"  the  people  of  England  sighing  once  more  to  be  a  nation," 
called  on  Sir  Robert  Peel  to  achieve  "  a  great  task  in  a  great 
spirit  " — "  rescue  yo2ir  Sovereign  from  an  unconstitutional  thral- 
dom ;  rescue  an  august  Senate  which  has  already  fought  the 
battle  of  the  people  ;  rescue  our  National  Church  which  our 


MONARCHY  185 

opponents  hate,  our  venerable  constitution  at  which  they  scoff; 
but,  above  all,  rescue  that  mighty  body  of  which  all  these  great 
classes  and  institutions  are  but  one  of  the  constituent  and 
essential  parts — rescue  the  natmi." 

In  1837,  "our  young  Queen  and  our  old  Institutions" 
were  no  mere  catchwords.  And  it  seems  unquestionable,  also, 
that  the  subsequent  interferences  of  Baron  Stockmar,  the  late 
Queen's  early  tutelage  to  Lord  Melbourne,  the  circumstances 
attendant  on  her  happy  marriage,  the  peculiar  treatment  of 
Prince  Consort  by  her  first  ministers,  and  the  long  retirement 
due  to  private  grief,  contributed  in  successive  combination 
towards  that  invisibility,  so  to  speak,  of  her  royal  office,  which 
prevailed,  though  it  did  not,  however,  eventually  preclude  her 
very  real  and  valuable  exercise  of  it.  In  England  the  only 
true  blemish  of  our  party  system,  which  Disraeli  vehemently 
fought  to  uphold,  is,  as  he  more  than  once  urged,  that  it  tends 
to  "warp  the  intelligence."  To  this  fault  the  wisdom  of  a 
constitutional  and  popular  monarch,  above  and  beyond  party, 
offers  an  antidote. 

Sir  Robert  Peel,  in  the  very  year  of  Queen  Victoria's 
accession,  writes  to  Croker  as  follows  : — 

"...  The  theory  of  the  constitution  is  that  the  King  has 
no  will  except  in  the  choice  of  his  ministers.  .  .  .  But  this, 
like  a  thousand  other  theories,  is  at  variance  with  the  fact. 
The  personal  character  of  the  sovereign  .  .  .  has  an  immense 
practical  effect.  .  .  .  There  may  not  be  violent  collisions 
between  the  King  and  his  Government,  but  his  influence, 
though  dormant  and  unseen,  may  be  very  powerful.  Respect 
for  personal  character  will  operate  in  some  cases  ;  in  others 
the  King  will  have  all  the  authority  which  greater  and  more 
widely  extended  experience  than  that  of  any  single  minister 
will  naturally  give.  A  King,  after  a  reign  of  ten  years,  ought 
to  know  much  more  of  the  working  of  the  machine  of  govern- 
ment than  any  other  man  in  the  country.  He  is  the  cetitre  to 
zvhich  all  business  gravitates.  The  knowledge  that  the  King 
holds  firmly  a  certain  opinion,  and  will  abide  by  it,  prevents 
in  many  cases  an  opposite  ^oinion  being  offered  to  him.  .  .  , 
The  personal  character  ^  a  really  constitutional  King,  of 
mature  age,  of  experien    .  in  public  affairs,  and  knowledge, 


i86  DISRAELI 

manners,  and  customs,  is  practically  so  much  ballast,  keeping 
the  vessel  of  the  State  steady  in  her  course,  countervailing  the 
levity  of  popular  ministers,  of  orators  forced  by  oratory  into 
public  councils,  the  blasts  of  democratic  passions,  the  ground- 
swell  of  discontent,  and  '  the  ignorant  impatience  for  the 
relaxation  of  taxation.'  .  .  .  The  genius  of  the  Constitution 
had  contrived  this  in  times  gone  by. 

"  '  Speluncis  abdidit  atris 
Hoc  metuens,  molemque  et  montes  insuper  altos 
Imposuit,  Re^efttgue  dedit,  qui  fcedere  certo 
Et  premere,  et  laxas  sciret  dare  jussus  habenas.' 

"  If  at  other  times  this  paternal  authority  ^  were  requisite, 
the  authority  to  be  exercised  fcedere  certo,  by  the  nice  tact  of 
an  experienced  hand,  how  much  more  is  it  necessary  when 
every  institution  is  reeling,  when 

*  Excutitnur  cursu,  et  cascis  erramus  in  undis '  /  " 

Sir  Robert's  idea,  then,  of  a  constitutional  sovereign  was 
that  of  an  unseen  driver  who  holds  the  reins  from  within. 
The  sailor-king  of  narrow  mind  but  broad  sympathies,  just 
departed  when  Peel  wrote,  had  not  proved  a  cipher.  He 
insisted  on  being  for  a  space  Lord  High  Admiral,  despite 
Croker's  ungenerous  retort  that  James  II.  had  done  the  same. 
In  1828  he  had  offered  wise  advice  to  his  ministers  as  to  the 
unripeness  of  the  times  for  a  change  in  the  form  then  proposed, 
which  touched  his  heart.  On  his  accession  he  emphatically 
expressed  his  pleasure  in  retaining  his  ministers.  And,  though 
he  composed  a  couplet  so  bad  that  it  might  have  been  the 
jingle  of  Harley — 

"^  dissolution 
Means  revolution^'' 

yet  throughout  the  brief  and  perplexed  span  of  his  reign  he 
honestly  tried  to  accord  with  the  whole  nation  as  opposed 
to  cliques  and  sections  of  it  that  assumed  the  title  of  "the 
people."  The  fact  was  that  he  acceded  during  one  of  those 
crises  when  the  balance  of  power  was  shifting,  and,  his  intellect 

'  It  will  be  noticed  that  Sir  Robert  goes  beyond  Disraeli's  ideas  of 
direct  kingship. 


MONARCHY  187 

being  mediocre,  he  became  bewildered.  The  new,  the  legiti- 
mate, the  organised  predominance  of  public  opinion  clashed 
with  Parliament,  and  was  played  upon  by  ambitious  ministers. 
William  the  Fourth  lived  in  just  fear  and  blunt  defiance  of 
that  "Venetian  oligarchy"  which  ever  since  1704  had  been 
the  recurrent  ideal  of  the  place-engrossing,  great  revolution 
families.  What  he  apprehended  was  foiled,  principally  by  the 
personality  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  whom  he  summoned  to  his 
aid.  Henceforward  the  monarchy  became,  as  it  ought  long 
before  to  have  become,  completely,  if  gradually,  popularised. 
When  monarchy  is  popular,  the  invisibility  of  its  office  ceases 
to  be  an  expedient.  "...  I  think,"  said  Disraeli,  in  a  speech 
of  1850,  "it  one  of  the  great  misfortunes  of  our  time,  and  one 
most  injurious  to  public  liberty,  that  the  power  of  the  Crown 
has  diminished." 

With  Victoria  and  our  present  King — if  we  except  a  very 
transient  spasm  of  George  III.,  whose  first  essay  to  be  a 
"  patriot  king "  had  been  to  dismiss  and  thwart  the  most 
popular  minister  that  England  has  ever  had — monarchy  has 
for  the  first  time  during  nearly  two  centuries  proved  wholly 
and  nationally  popular.  Before  the  Stuarts,  Elizabeth  had 
ruled  by  the  sole  virtue  of  her  popularity  ;  she  had  "  inflamed 
the  national  spirit,"  and  the  checks  introduced  by  the 
Revolution  were  only  a  necessity  for  unpopular  sovereigns. 
The  Press  has  now  introduced  a  far  greater  check  than  any  of 
these.  Now  that  the  nation  is  in  full  unison  with  the  Crown, 
the  King  is  doubly  entitled  to  support  the  nation  in  hours  of 
befitting  emergency  against  the  cabals  or  passions  of  a  person, 
a  clique,  or  a  class.  A  modern  English  King  is  too  cognisant 
of  the  popular  feeling  eloquent  in  an  unbridled  press  ever  to 
violate  it ;  he  could  not  do  so  with  impunity.  The  last  surrender 
of  "independent  kingship,"  which  Mr.  Gladstone  has  noted,  and 
others  after  him,  was  in  1827,  when  a  weak  sovereign  renewed 
the  "charter  of  administration  of  the  day."  There  is  no 
pretext  now  for  a  King  to  yield  or  hide  his  just  and  popular 
privileges  to  serve  the  turn  of  ministers.  The  necessity  for  a 
"  monarch  of  Downing  Street "  has  disappeared. 

Disraeli  adverted  to  some  of  these  topics  at  Manchester 
in    1872,    long   after  the  events  of  those  times  had  passed, 


i88  DISRAELI 

but  when  "  the  banner  of  repiibh"canism  "  was  once  again 
unfurled. 

"...  Since  the  settlement  of  that  constitution,  now  nearly 
two  centuries  ago,  England  has  never  experienced  a  revolu- 
tion, though  there  is  no  country  in  which  there  has  been  so 
continuous  and  such  considerable  change.  How  is  this  ? 
Because  the  wisdom  of  your  forefathers  placed  the  prize  of 
.supreme  power  without  the  sphere  of  human  passions.  What- 
ever the  struggle  of  parties,  whatever  the  strife  of  factions, 
whatever  the  excitement  and  exaltation  of  the  public  mind, 
there  has  always  been  something  in  this  country  round  which 
all  classes  and  powers  could  rally,  representing  the  majesty 
of  the  law,  the  administration  of  justice,  and  involving  at 
the  same  time  the  security  for  every  man's  rights  and  the 
fountain  of  honour."  And  then,  after  emphasising  the  non- 
partisanship  of  the  Crown,  the  very  end  which  Bolingbroke 
forecasted  at  the  time  when  an  unemancipated  King  was 
condemned  to  be  a  party  man,  he  led  the  discussion  to  the 
conventional  views  of  the  King  being  not  only  outside  politics, 
but  outside  affairs. 

"...  I  know  it  will  be  said  that,  however  beautiful  in 
theory,  the  personal  influence  of  the  Sovereign  is  now  ab- 
sorbed in  the  responsibility  of  the  minister.  I  think  you  will 
find  there  is  a  great  fallacy  in  this  view.  The  principles  of 
the  English  Constitution  do  not  contemplate  the  absence  of 
personal  influence  on  the  part  of  the  Sovereign  ;  and  if  they 
did,  the  principles  of  human  nature  would  prevent  the  fulfil- 
ment of  such  a  theory."  He  is  here  in  complete  accord  with 
Peel.  "  Even,"  he  says,  "  with  average  ability,  it  is  impossible 
not  to  perceive  that  such  a  Sovereign  must  soon  attain  a 
great  mass  of  political  information  and  political  experience. 
Information  and  experience,  .  .  .  whether  they  are  possessed 
by  a  Sovereign  or  by  the  humblest  of  his  subjects,  are  irresis- 
tible in  life.  .  .  .  The  longer  the  reign,  the  influence  of  that 
Sovereign  must  proportionately  increase.  All  the  illustrious 
statesmen  who  served  his  youth  disappear.  A  new  genera- 
tion of  public  servants  rises  up.  There  is  a  critical  conjuncture 
in  affairs — a  moment  of  perplexity  and  peril.  Then  it  is  that 
the  Sovereign  can  appeal  to   a  similar  state  of  affairs  that 


MONARCHY  189 

occurred  perhaps  thirty  years  before.  When  all  are  in  doubt 
among  his  servants,  he  can  quote  the  advice  that  was  given 
by  the  illustrious  men  of  his  early  years,  and  though  he  may 
maintain  himself  within  the  strictest  limits  of  the  Constitution, 
who  can  suppose,  when  such  information  and  such  suggestions 
are  made  by  the  most  exalted  person  in  the  country,  that 
they  can  be  without  effect  ?  No  ;  ...  a  minister  who  could 
venture  to  treat  such  influence  with  indifference  would  not  be 
a  Constitutional  minister,  but  an  arrogant  idiot.  .  .  ."  And 
in  another  speech  of  the  same  year,  after  insisting  that 
English  attachment  to  English  institutions  was  no  "political 
superstition,"  but  sprang  from  a  resolve  that  ''  the  principles  of 
libei'ty,  of  order,  of  law,  and  of  religion  onght  not  to  be  entrusted 
to  individual  opinion,  or  to  the  caprice  and  passion  of  vmltitudes, 
but  should  be  embodied  in  a  form  of  permatience  and  power" 
he  also  remarked  :  "...  We  associate  with  the  Monarchy 
the  ideas  which  it  represents — the  majesty  of  law,  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice,  the  fountain  of  mercy  and  honour."  He 
might,  in  fitness  with  his  other  pronouncements,  have  added 
the  ideas  of  loyalty  and  of  leadership.  Again,  in  1871,  a 
moment  of  republican  revival,  adverting  to  the  superinten- 
dence of  public  business  by  the  Sovereign,  he  insisted  that 
"...  there  is  not  a  dispatch  received  from  abroad,  or  sent 
from  this  country  abroad,  which  is  not  submitted  to  the 
Queen.  .  .  .  Those  Cabinet  Councils,  .  .  .  which  are  neces- 
sarily the  scene  of  anxious  and  important  deliberations,  are 
reported  and  communicated,  .  .  .  and  they  often  call  from 
her  critical  remarks  requiring  considerable  attention.  .  .  . 
No  person  likely  to  administer  the  affairs  of  this  country 
would  treat  the  suggestions  of  Her  Majesty  with  indifference, 
for  at  this  moment  there  is  probably  no  person  living  who 
has  such  complete  control  over  the  political  conditions.  .  .  . 
But,  although  there  never  was  a  Sovereign  who  would  less 
arrogate  any  power  or  prerogative  which  the  Constitution 
does  not  authorise,  so  I  will  say  there  never  was  one  more 
wisely  jealous  of  those  which  the  Constitution  has  allotted  to 
her,  because  she  believes  they  are  for  the  welfare  of  her 
peoplt " 

It  is  by  its  constitutional  prerogatives  that,  in  the  first 


I90  DISRAELI 

place,  the  Crown  can  assert  its  lawful  influence.  They  confer 
on  him  a  deciding  power  in  many  spheres.  Of  these  pre- 
rogatives Disraeli  was  a  champion  ;  and  Mr.  Gladstone  up- 
held them  in  at  least  two  interesting  discussions  among  his 
"  Gleanings." 

To  defer  the  most  obvious  among  these,  the  King's  con- 
sultative faculty,  "  the  power,"  to  cite  Mr.  Gladstone,  "  which 
gives  the  monarch  an  undoubted  locus  standi  in  all  the 
deliberations  of  a  Government,  .  .  .  remains  as  it  was."  In 
olden  days  this  was  effected  openly  in  form.  Nor  should  it  be 
forgotten  that  whenever  a  Ministry  is  changed,  again  to  cite 
Mr.  Gladstone,  "  the  whole  power  of  the  State  periodically 
returns  into  the  royal  hands."  In  1852,  when  Lord  Derby 
reluctantly  consented  to  assume  office  with  a  minority,  there 
were  forty-eight  hours  when,  as  Disraeli  pointed  out  in  a 
speech  of  1873,  "the  Queen  was  without  a  Government." 
Then  take  the  royal  prerogative  of  dissolution.  This  right 
enabled,  in  1852,  that  very  administration  to  perform  the 
work  of  the  session,  and  to  carry  the  supplies  before  appealing 
to  the  constituencies  on  its  right  to  exist.  It  is  in  effect  a 
right  of  appeal  by  the  Sovereign  through  or  even  against 
(should  he  deem  it  their  duty  to  take  the  national  voice)  his 
ministers  to  the  country  ;  and  in  any  crucial  instance  it 
forms  the  best  check  to  faction  of  which  our  Constitution 
admits. 

Further,  there  exists  the  admitted  prerogative,  openly 
exercised,  of  choice  of  ministers.  This  was  the  main  arena 
of  party  cleavage  under  the  greater  portion  of  the  sway  of 
George  III.  It  was  this  which,  as  Mr.  Gladstone  also  men- 
tions, was  unsuccessfully,  but  neither  unwholesomely  nor 
unfairly,  pressed  into  popular  service  in  1834.  And,  among 
many  others  remaining,  there  is  that  to  appoint  bishops — a 
stalking-ground  of  contention  during  the  reign  of  Anne,  and, 
in  the  Victorian  era,  signalised  by  Dr.  Hampden's  appoint- 
ment against  a  remonstrant  primate.  There  is  the  prerogative 
of  the  Royal  Warrant  utilised  by  Mr.  Gladstone  himself  in 
the  repeal  of  the  Purchase  Act.  There  is  the  prerogative  of 
disapproving  the  choice  of  Speaker,  which  will  probably  cease. 
There  is  that  for  proposing  grants  of  public  money,  and  there 


MONARCHY  191 

is  the  salutary  initiative  of  Royal  Commission  which  paves 
the  way  for  social  reform.  On  these  personal  rights  I  need 
not  dwell.  But  on  the  prerogative  of  peace  and  war  a  word 
must  be  said.  Had  it  been  withheld  for  hostilities  in  the 
Crimea,  a  needless  complication  of  Europe  need  never  have 
occurred.^  We  may  conjecture  that  its  influence  was  not 
absent  from  our  recent  peace  in  South  Africa.  Mr.  Gladstone 
has  instanced  the  Chinese  war,  some  fifty  years  ago,  as  an 
example  of  carrying  on  a  conflict  believed  to  be  necessary 
despite  its  condemnation  by  "  the  stewards  of  the  public 
purse."  The  Sovereign  has  also  the  undoubted  right  to 
consult  with  his  ministers,  and  to  attend  the  deliberations 
of  his  Cabinet.  Queen  Anne  did  this  habitually,  and  the 
fatal  movement  of  her  fan  decided  great  issues  on  more  than 
one  occasion.  The  first  two  Georges  used  on  occasion,  but 
with  indifference  where  money  was  not  concerned,  to  do  the 
same.  Since  then  it  has  fallen  into  disuse,  and  perhaps  the 
end  is  better  served  by  the  premier's  audiences  with  his 
King.  But  I  may  here  be  permitted  to  hope  that  when  the 
great  intercolonial  council  which  is  in  the  air  has  taken  shape, 
the  Sovereign  may  deign  to  be  its  President.  Such  a  decision 
would  be  in  complete  accord  with  the  policy  of  Disraeli,  who 
affirmed  in  1876,  "No  one  regrets  more  than  I  do  that 
favourable  opportunities  have  been  lost  of  identifying  the 
colonies  with  the  royal  race  of  England." 

The  prerogatives  are  the  royal  faculties  for  independent 
expression.  But  it  is  obviously  not  by  prerogative  mainly 
or  alone  that  the  Crown  rivets  and  can  mould  a  nation. 
The  Crown  is  a  many-sided  emblem.  It  is  the  centre  of 
English  unity,  a  focus  of  consolidation  and  compactness ; 
while  it  also  represents  Great  and  Greater  Britain  abroad. 
As  a  source  of  home  sympathy,  as  the  embodiment  of  the 

1  In  1872,  Disraeli  said,  after  stating  that  Lord  Derby's  successor  was 
no  enemy  to  Russian  aggression,  "...  I  speak  of  what  I  know,  not  of 
what  I  beheve,  but  of  what  I  have  evidence  in  my  possession  to  prove, 
that  the  Crimean  War  would  never  have  happened  if  Lord  Derby  had 
remained  in  office.  .  .  ."  Lord  Derby's  error  in  resigning  in  1853  he 
always  deplored  ;  just  as  he  regretted  equally  his  rash  acceptance  of 
office  during  the  previous  year,  and  his  more  fatal  timidity  in  shrinking 
from  assuming  it  in  1855. 


192  DISRAELI 

might  and  mercy  of  a  great  Empire,  as  the  durable  impersona- 
tion of  the  individual  character  that  out  of  many  welded 
races  creates  a  united  Empire,  it  is  manifestly  operative.  I 
may  add  that  it  may  also  set  an  example  of  simplicity,  for 
the  Crown  is  able  to  bring  choice  virtues  into  vulgar  fashion. 

Nor  should  sight  be  lost  of  the  immense  services  which 
the  Sovereign  may  render  to  British  interests  abroad.  Shifting 
administrations  encourage  various  hopes  in  foreign  powers. 
The  Crimean  War  was  an  outcome  of  such  renewed  aspira- 
tions. Our  foreign  policy  lacks  the  strength  of  continuity, 
and  its  changefulness  seems  ineradicable  from  our  party 
system.  It  is,  therefore,  of  high  importance  that  European 
courts  should  be  able  to  count  on  certain  limits  which  they 
know  that  a  monarch  whom  they  respect  is  likely  to  maintain. 
Such  a  consciousness  of  finality  enables  foreign  Governments 
to  moderate  the  popular  clamour  often  worked  up  by  dis- 
honest agitation,  and  the  more  obstinate  because  purposely 
misinformed.  The  Crown  can  thus  become  a  great  con- 
ciliator,^ and  sometimes  a  preventer  of  actual  war.  The 
afifinities  of  the  blood  royal  to  continental  dynasties  are  not 
so  cogent,  though  their  material  aid  as  sources  of  inner 
information  is  manifest.  But  as  guarantees  of  amity  they 
often  prove  comparatively  helpless,  unless  supported  by  the 
recognition  of  character,  tact,  and  abilities,  for  which  the 
nurture  of  every  British  prince  should  fit  him,  and  which 
entitle  him  to  appeal  to  every  differing  headship  of  peoples 
abroad,  as  well  as  to  the  originally  alien  ingredients  of  empire 
at  home.  The  British  Sovereign  may  well  be  called  the 
Member  for  the  Empire. 

On  these  aspects  Disraeli  often  dwelt ;  and  at  a  period 
when,  for  these  objects,  the  comparatively  small  expense  was 
affected  to  be  grudged  by  a  set  of  extreme  politicians,  his 
analysis  proved  its  cheapness  in  proportion  to  the  cost  of 
large  democracies  and  republics. 

A  great  outcry  was  raised  when,  twenty-seven  years  ago, 

Disraeli  made  the  startling  move  of  appealing  alike  to  the 

Hindoo  and  the  Mohammedan  sentiment  by  investing  Queen 

Victoria  with   a   title   which   has  impressed  India   with  the 

^  This  passage  was  written  before  the  events  of  1903. 


'     MONARCHY  193 

grandeur  of  Great  Britain.  To  the  Oriental  the  style  of  a 
white  queen  meant  as  little  as  to  the  queen  of  the  Ansaries,  so 
humorously  depicted  in  Tancred.  It  was  well  said  of  Disraeli 
by  Lord  Salisbury,  in  the  speech  which  commemorated  his 
death,  that  zeal  for  the  greatness  of  England  had  eaten  him 
up  ;  and  zeal,  as  Disraeli  observed  in  an  Irish  speech  of  1844, 
is  rare  enough  in  these  days.  Never  was  a  stroke  more 
justified  by  its  results.  Like  the  purchase  of  the  Suez  Canal 
shares,  equally  justified,  it  was  bitterly  and  blindly  assailed. 
"  Bastard  imperialism  "  was  the  refrain  of  the  Opposition.  No 
one  knew  on  what  sacred  ark  the  Machiavellian  finger  might 
next  be  laid. 

Disraeli  proved  that  "  empress "  was  an  old  ascription 
even  in  England,  and  that  "  emperor "  even  in  the  Western 
mind  was  not  a  title  bound  up  with  "  bad  associations." 
Macaulay  had  singled  out  the  age  of  the  Antonines  as  a 
signal  era  for  the  world,  and  the  Antonines  had  been 
emperors.  In  the  early  'sixties  a  definite  and  powerful  party 
had  conspired  to  break  the  unity  of  the  empire  and  the 
dignity  of  the  kingdom,  to  sacrifice  everything  to  material 
considerations,  to  convert  a  first-class  monarchy  into  a  second- 
class  republic.  It  was  not  enough  that  the  national  sentiment 
should  be  diverted  from  appeals  to  pocket  by  appeals  to 
patriotism  ;  that  the  gush  of  utilitarian  cold  water  should  be 
arrested  from  drowning  the  rekindled  flames  of  public  spirit. 
The  coloured  imagination  of  the  East  must  also  be  brought 
into  line  with  the  soberer  background  of  the  West.  Nor  was 
the  relation  of  the  measure  less  weighty  to  Europe.  Europe, 
too,  must  realise  that  India  was  a  trust  which  Britain  was 
resolute  never  to  abandon.  These  objects  Disraeli  effected 
by  his  "  Royal  Titles  Bill,"  a  conception  as  simple  as  it  was 
daring.  "  They  know  in  India,"  he  urged,  after  imploring  the 
House  to  "remove  prejudice  from  their  minds" — "they  know 
in  India  what  this  bill  means,  and  they  know  that  what  it 
means  is  what  they  wish.  .  .  .  Let  not  our  divisions  be 
misconstrued.  Let  the  people  of  India  feel  that  there  is  a 
sympathetic  chord  between  us  and  them,  and  do  not  let  Europe 
suppose  for  a  moment  that  there  are  any  in  this  House  who  are 
?iot  deeply  conscious  of  the  importatice  of  our  Indian  Etnpire. 
o 


194  DISRAELI 

Unfortunate  words  have  been  heard  in  the  debate  upon  this 
subject  ;  but  I  will  not  believe  that  any  member  of  this  House 
seriously  contemplates  the  loss  of  our  Indian  Empire.  .  .  . 
If  you  sanction  the  passing  of  this  bill,  it  will  be  an  act,  to 
my  mind,  that  will  add  splendour  even  to  her  throne,  and 
security  even  to  her  Empire."  In  a  subsequent  chapter  I 
shall  show  that  these  ideas  of  sympathy  with  India  had 
animated  him  while  the  great  Mutiny  was  raging. 

It  was  Disraeli  who  suggested  to  Queen  Victoria  the 
propriety  of  learning  the  language  and  studying  the  literature 
of  the  vast  domain  over  which  she  ruled,  and  the  vninshis 
summoned  to  instruct  her,  brought  home  to  every  Indian  the 
conviction  that  her  sway  was  one,  not  only  of  strength,  but  of 
sympathy  and  intelligence.  Doubtless  these  policies  were 
born  of  dreams,  and  of  dreams  which  to  the  unreflecting 
might  seem  extravaganzas.  But  they  were  not  merely  an 
Arabian  Nights'  entertainment.  The  Monarchy,  like  the 
Church,  in  his  mind  were  in  one  respect  akin.  The  Clergy 
and  the  King  were  both  "  English  citizens  and  English 
gentlemen,"  and  yet  the  undue  political  influence  of  either,  as 
he  insisted  in  1861,  was  to  be  feared,  because  it  might  diminish 
their  best  influence.  Both  make  for  order,  and  order  makes 
for  liberty.  "...  It  is  said  sometimes  that  the  Church  of 
England  is  hostile  to  religious  liberty.  As  well  might  it  be 
said  that  the  Monarchy  of  England  is  adverse  to  political 
freedom." 

Many  of  Disraeli's  central  ideas  as  to  British  kingship 
were  partly  decided  by  him  from  his  boyish  conversance  with 
the  works  of  Lord  Bolingbroke,  whose  constitutional  theories 
(repeated  by  Burke)  solved  the  difficulty  of  accounting  for  the 
popularity  of  exclusiveness  in  the  theory  of  government,  and 
for  the  odiousness  of  that  party  which  had  once  been  inclusive 
and  "national."  Prerogative  has  been  nowhere  better  defined 
than  by  Bolingbroke,  who  uniformly  also  declares  that  Parlia- 
ment is  the  main  barrier  against  "the  usurpation  of  its 
illegal,  or  the  abuse  of  its  legal,  powers."  He  terms  preroga- 
tive "  a  discretionary  power  in  the  King  to  act  for  the  good 
of  his  people  where  the  laws  are  silent  ;  .  .  .  never  contrary 
to  law  ; "  and  this  in  a  passage  where  he  protests  against  its 


MONARCHY  195 

being  raised  "  one  step  higher  ;  "  and  he  has  further  shown 
elsewhere  how  some  such  "  barefaced,  extraordinary  powers  " 
were  welcomed  by  the  nation  in  Elizabeth's  reign,  because 
they  were  called  forth  by  popular  emergencies  and  used 
in  a  popular  manner.  Elizabeth,  at  a  time  before  the 
Sovereign  depended  on  Parliament,  and  before  the  Cabinet 
system  was  established,  owed  her  power  to  her  sympathy 
with  her  people.  The  first  two  Georges  were  unsym- 
pathetic, and  the  second  abetted  not  only  partisanship,  but 
cliqueship.  He  became  dependent  on  contending  heads 
of  greedy  factions.  To  cure  these  evils  was  the  purport  of 
the  "  Patriot  King,"  which  inspired  Disraeli  as  it  had  before 
inspired  Chatham. 

It  has  been  objected  that  Bolingbroke's  aim  was  for  the 
King  to  "  defy  Parliament."  Nothing  could  be  further  from 
the  truth.  Throughout  his  writings  he  champions  the  rights 
of  Parliament  ;  indeed.  Parliament  was  his  hobby.  In  his 
treatise  on  the  "  Patriot  King,"  the  word  "  Parliament "  is  not 
employed — it  is  his  only  essay  from  which  it  is  absent — but 
the  phrase  "  the  people,"  that  is,  has  been  expressly  defined  by 
him  as  the  whole  nation  in  its  capacities,  representative  as  well 
as  collective.  It  therefore  includes  "  Parliament."  In  Boling- 
broke's previous  "  Spirit  of  Patriotism,"  he  had  approached 
the  theme  of  national  regeneration  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
ideal  citizen  ;  in  the  "  Patriot  King,"  from  the  standpoint  of 
a  throne  in  accord  with  national  concurrence.  Its  whole  pith 
is  that  the  ideal  King,  governing  through  ministers  and 
through  party,  should  rise  above  and  beyond  them.  He  must 
be  neither  a  partisan  (as  all  the  Georges  proved),  nor  a 
puppet,  nor  (as  Canning  long  afterwards  repeated)  "  the  tool 
of  a  confederacy,"  but  in  alliance  with  and  reliance  on  the 
whole  body  of  his  subjects.  The  "  Patriot  King  "  is  expressly 
urged  "  to  confine  instead  of  labouring  to  extend  his  preroga- 
tive ; "  and  Bolingbroke  adds  that  such  an  ideal  would  be 
derided  by  his  own  generation. 

Of  Elizabeth  herself,  whose  great  example  is  his  perpetual 
praise,  he  has  observed  elsewhere  that,  "  instead  of  struggling 
through  trouble  and  danger  to  bend  the  constitution  to  any 
particular  views  of  her  own,  she  accommodated  her  notions. 


196  DISRAELI 

her  views,  and  her  whole  character  to  it ; "  and  he  proceeds  to 
say,  "  a  free  people  expects  this  of  their  prince.  He  is  made 
for  their  sakes,  not  they  for  his  ;  "  and  again,  "  the  merit  of  a 
wise  governor  is  wisely  to  superintend  the  whole."  He 
expresses  his  ideal  of  an  impartial  and  democratic  King  in 
his  "  Spirit  of  Patriotism  "  as  of  one  who  should  "govern  all 
by  all."  He  further,  in  many  direct  passages,  distinctly  looks 
forward  to  a  transference  of  power  from  caballing  cliques  led 
by  selfish  ambition,  to  the  nation  at  large,  and  he  calls  on  the 
King  to  be  a  truly  national  ruler.  He  desires,  under  changes, 
descried  in  the  dim  distance,  that  the  "sense  of  the  Court,  tJie 
sense  of  the  Parliament,  and  the  sense  of  the  People  sJiojild  be 
the  same ;  "  that  the  King,  as  he  expresses  it,  should  prove  the 
"  centre  of  the  nation,"  and,  as  Disraeli  has  expressed  it, 
should  be  above  "class  interests;"  should,  in  a  country  of 
classes,  respond  to  every  class,  and  favouritise  none.  To 
this  end  he  harped,  as  did  Disraeli  from  first  to  last,  on 
what  he  admits  to  be  a  seeming  solecism — a  "  National 
Party  ; "  and  by  this  he  means — as  I  could  prove  by  countless 
passages — a  party  whose  main  object  is  national  and  imperial 
unity  ;  one  that  is,  moreover,  comprehensive  instead  of  being 
exclusive. 

These  ideas,  in  happier  times  and  altered  circumstances, 
passed  to  Disraeli.  In  1859,  repeating  in  part  what  he  had 
aflfirmed  of  "  Bolingbroke  "  in  the  Letter  to  Lord  Lyndhurst, 
indited  nearly  twenty-five  years  earlier,  he  said  of  the 
Conservative  party  :  "...  In  attempting,  however  humbly,  to 
regulate  its  fortunes,  I  have  always  striven  to  distinguish  that 
which  was  eternal  from  that  which  was  but  accidental  in  its 
opinions.  I  have  always  striven  to  assist  in  building  it  upon 
a  broad  atid  national  basis,  because  I  believed  it  to  be  a  party 
peculiarly  and  essentially  national — a  party  which  adhered  to 
the  institutions  of  the  country  as  embodying  the  national 
necessities  and  forming  the  best  security  for  the  liberty,  the 
power,  and  the  prosperity  of  England." 

In  his  Runnymede  Letter  to  Peel  of  1836,  he  calls  on  him 
to  head  this  "  national  party."  In  his  Crystal  Palace  oration 
of  1872,  he  showed  that  the  ideal  of  a  "  Conservative"  party 
seeking  to  preserve,  adapt,  and  expand  traditional  institutions 


MONARCHY  197 

is  to  be  national.  In  this  striking  speech,  after  deprecating 
that,  in  the  days  of  Eldon,  "...  instead  of  the  principles 
professed  by  Mr.  Pitt  and  Lord  Grenville,  and  which  those 
great  men  inherited  '  from  predecessors '  not  less  illustrious, 
the  Tory  system  had  degenerated  into  a  policy  which  formed 
an  adequate  basis  on  the  principles  of  exclusiveness  and 
restriction,"  he  urged,  as  he  had  always  urged  :  "...  The 
Tory  party,  unless  it  is  a  national  party,  is  nothing.  It  is  not 
a  confederacy  of  nobles,  it  is  not  a  democratic  multitude  ;  it 
is  a  party  formed  from  all  the  numerous  classes  in  the  realm — 
classes  alike  and  equal  before  the  law,  but  whose  different 
conditions  and  different  aims  give  vigour  and  variety  to  our 
national  life." 

For  the  essence  of  these  ideas,  the  forms  which  have  since 
appeared  or  vanished — the  development  of  the  ministerial 
system,  the  organisation  of  public  opinion — are  immaterial. 
Of  course  Bolingbroke  could  not  foresee  the  routine  of  the  far 
future  ;  it  was  its  spirit  which  he  foresaw,  and  to  which, 
through  Disraeli,  he  contributed.  In  his  own  language  about 
another,  he  "  .  .  .  had  the  wisdom  to  discern,  not  only  the  actual 
alteration  zvhich  was  already  made,  but  the  growing  alteration 
which  vjould  every  day  increase"  And  this,  too,  may  be 
affirmed  of  Disraeli. 

I  think  that,  in  the  denial  of  Bolingbroke's  real  objects, 
achieved  by  Disraeli,  some  misconception  has  arisen  from  the 
constant  use  towards  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century  of 
"to  govern  by  party  connections." 

George  III.,  a  student  u"  Bolingbroke,  but  a  narrow  abuser 
on  his  first  trial  of  his  doctrine,  was  accused  of  meaning  to 
dispense  with  this  watchword  of  oligarchs.  But  the  quarrels 
of  his  time  proved  that  wn^'  George  III.  really  wanted  was  to 
dispense  with  one  party  alone,  to  escape  from  the  dictation  of 
a  few  governing  families,  and  to  choose  his  own  ministers. 
There  may  be — there  have  been — great  parties  based  on 
principles  of  disruption  and  contraction  rather  than  of  union 
and  expansion,  or  parties  based  on  principles  more  international 
or  continental  than  national  and  British.  A  "national"  party 
does  not  exclude  their  existence  and  criticism,  any  more  than 
it  does  that  of  another  "national"  party  taking  another  outlook 


198  DISRAELI 

on  "  general  principles."  What  it  ought  more  and  more  to 
exclude,  what  the  monarch  as  the  centre  of  union  should 
more  and  more  render  impossible,  is  an  anti-national  group, 
and  the  remedy  that  Burke  suggests  for  such  an  ailment  is 
that  propounded  by  Bolingbroke  and  upheld  by  Disraeli — the 
limited  and  constitutional  prerogatives  of  the  Crown — which 
should  render  less  possible  those  gangs  of  office-mongers 
who,  in  Bolingbroke's  phrase,  pay  "a  private  court  at  the 
public  expense,"  and  in  Disraeli's,  are  "public  traders  of  easy 
virtue." 

These  ideas,  shared  by  Bolingbroke,  by  Burke,  by  Canning, 
and  by  Disraeli,  are  no  tiresome  theories,  but  lively  and 
practical  issues.  We  too  must  look  ahead.  How  far  under 
modern  conditions,  and  apart  from  the  spasms  and  clamours 
of  party,  can  the  sovereign  power  as  a  force  consolidating 
the  Empire  be  strengthened,  and  the  royal  prerogatives 
wisely  displayed  in  the  light  of  day  ?  Ought  a  King's 
personality  to  prove  also  the  means  of  his  power  ?  Time 
will  show. 


CHAPTER  VI 

COLONIES— EMPIRE— FOREIGN   POLICY 

BEFORE  Disraeli  had  entered  public  life,  at  a  time 
when  public  opinion  remained  stagnant  regarding  the 
reciprocal  needs  and  splendid  future  of  the  Mother 
Country  and  her  children,  while  it  was  still  thought 
optional  whether  the  parent  supported  the  offspring  or  the 
offspring  the  parent,  Disraeli  had  pondered  on  the  problem, 
and  brought  imagination  to  bear  upon  it.  The  colonies  were 
not  merely  commercial  acquisitions,  they  were  the  free  vents 
for  the  surplus  energy  of  a  great  race,  and  the  nursery  gardens 
of  national  institutions. 

In  Contarini  Fleming  he  thus  muses,  dreaming  of  things 
to  come,  in  sight  of  Corcyra — 

"...  There  is  a  great  difference  between  ancient  and 
modern  colonies.  A  modern  colony  is  a  commercial  enter- 
prise, an  ancient  colony  was  a  political  sentiment.  In  the 
emigration  of  our  citizens,  hitherto,  ive  have  merely  sought 
the  means  of  acquiring  luealth ;  the  ancients,  when  their 
brethren  quitted  their  native  shores,  wept  and  sacrificed,  and 
were  reconciled  to  the  loss  of  their  fellow-citizens  solely  by 
the  constraint  of  stern  necessity,  and  the  hope  that  they  were 
about  to  find  easier  subsistence,  and  to  lead  a  more  cheerful 
and  commodious  life.  /  believe  that  a  great  revolution  is  at 
hand  in  our  system  of  colonisation,  and  that  Europe  ivill  soon 
recnr  to  the  principles  of  the  ancient  polity."  In  1836  he  thus 
satirises  the  impending  King's  speech  in  his  Runnymede 
Letter  to  Lord  Melbourne— 

"...  It  will  announce  to  us  that  in  our  colonial  empire 
the  most  important  results  may  speedily  be  anticipated  from 
the  discreet  selection  of  Lord  Auckland  as  a  successor  to  our 
199 


200  DISRAELI 

Clives  and  our  Hastings  ;  that  the  progressive  improvement  of 
the  French  in  the  manufacture  of  beetroot  may  compensate 
for  the  approaching  destruction  of  our  West  Indian  planta- 
tions ;  ^  and  that,  although  Canada  is  not  yet  independent, 
the  final  triumph  of  liberal  principles,  under  the  immediate 
patronage  of  the  Government,  may  eventually  console  us  for 
the  loss  of  the  glory  of  Chatham  and  the  conquests  of  Wolfe." 

Once  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he  never  ceased  to  urge 
the  claims  of  sentiment  and  the  bonds  of  interest,  while  he 
enforced  the  necessity  for  cementing  them  by  federation  and 
by  tariffs.  In  1848,  when  Lord  Palmerston,  with  his  "per- 
fumed cane,"  was  dictating  a  constitution  to  Narvaez,  Disraeli, 
who  on  principle  deprecated  interference  with  foreign  powers 
unless  British  interests  were  endangered,  here  supported  him, 
just  because  he  considered  it  a  case  with  contingencies  affect- 
ing our  colonial  welfare  and  our  own  prestige.  It  was  in 
1848,  too,  that,  descanting  on  the  narrowing  aspects  of  the 
Manchester  School,  and  their  "  unblushing  "  advocacy  of  the 
"interests  of  capital,"  he  indicted  their  "colonial  reform  with 
ruining  the  colonies."  It  was  in  the  same  year  that  he  taxed 
the  self-righteous  Peelites  with  "  turning  up  their  noses  at  East 
India  cotton  as  at  everything  else  Colonial  and  Imperial."  ^ 

Under  Governments,  of  which  Disraeli  was  the  leading 
spirit,  a  constitution  was  framed  for  New  Zealand  in  1852, 
and  in  the  summer  of  1858  the  colony  of  British  Columbia 
was  established.  It  was  not  more  than  a  few  months  after- 
wards that  disturbances  arose  ;  and  the  Times,  in  its  review 
of  the  year  1859,  found  in  these  elements  only  the  "  incubus  " 
of  ubiquitous  colonies  and  commerce.  To  this  standing  snarl 
about  "  the  millstone  of  the  colonies  and  India "  Disraeli 
adverted  thirteen  years  afterwards,  when  he  said  :  " .  .  .  It 
has  been  shown  with  precise,  with  mathematical  demonstration, 

1  This  was  realised  some  ten  years  later  by  the  repeal  of  the  Sugar 
Duties. 

^  The  speech  about  Income  Tax,  which  contains  another  masterly 
analysis  of  the  displacement  of  labour.  Previously,  in  1845,  he  had  said 
of  Canada,  "...  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  think  that  its  inevitable  lot 
is  to  become  annexed  to  the  United  States.  Canada  has  all  the  elements 
of  a  great  and  independent  country,  and  is  destined,  I  sometimes  believe, 
to  be  the  Russia  of  the  New  World." 


COLONIES  20I 

that  there  never  was  a  jewel  in  the  Crown  of  England  that 
was  so  truly  costly.  .  .  .  How  often  has  it  been  suggested 
that  we  should  emancipate  ourselves  from  this  incubus !  "  It 
was  Disraeli's  Government  that  in  the  'sixties  was  to  con- 
federate Canada,  and  in  the  'seventies  to  devise  a  scheme  for 
confederating  South  Africa.  In  his  earliest  pamphlets  Disraeli 
had  announced  that  the  genius  of  the  age  was  one  of  a 
transition  from  the  "  feodal  "  to  the  "  federal."  In  his  whole 
outlook  throughout  he  sought  to  reconcile  the  higher  spirit 
of  the  one  with  the  material  interests  of  the  other.  And  yet, 
astounding  to  relate,  it  was  stated  in  a  speech  some  seven 
years  or  so  ago,  that  Disraeli  himself  had  endorsed  such 
melancholy  and  shortsighted  pettiness.  The  sole  foundation 
that  I  have  been  able  to  find  is  a  stray  sentence  in  a  light 
letter  to  Lord  Malmesbury  ;  just  as  in  1863  he  made  merry 
in  Parliament  over  those  who  regarded  the  "  colonial  empire  " 
as  an  "  annual  burden." 

This  sentence,  jesting  of  the  "  millstone,"  but  sighing  over 
the  chance  of  severance,  was  penned  in  1853 — the  very  year 
after  the  New  Zealand  Constitution.  It  was  a  time  of 
despondency,  following  on  fourteen  years  of  colonial  crisis. 
During  it  both  Canada  and  the  Cape  had  rebelled.  The 
former's  Constitution  had  been  suspended.  The  repeal  of  the 
Sugar  Duties  had  estranged  mutinous  Jamaica.  Peel  had  been 
constrained  to  exclaim  that  in  "  Every  one  of  our  colonies  we 
have  another  Ireland,"  and  Peel  was  an  imperialist.  In  a 
raw  state,  and  in  the  crudity  of  earlier  hardships,  the  colonies 
always  clash  more  readily  with  home  government  than  when 
the  mellowing  progress  of  experience  enables  them  to  take 
a  less  partial  view,  and  to  accept  help  in  working  out  their 
own  salvation.  Moreover,  the  choice  still  lay  between  pure 
democracy  and  democracy  monarchical  and  national.  The 
democratic  idea  during  this  period  was  working  in  absolute 
detachment  from  the  ancient  institutions  which  should  have 
been  easily  transplanted.  In  the  colonies  these  were  all  in 
danger.  It  was  difficult  here  to  find  a  rallying  centre  for 
them  there,  and  that  difficulty  was  heightened  by  the  two 
new  schools  of  Radical  thought — the  older,  that  of  the  philo- 
sophical Molesworth  and  the  utilitarian   Hume,  who  tested 


202  DISRAELI 

policy  by  the  criterion  of  immediate  success  ;  the  newer,  that 
of  the  dry  "  Physical  Equalitarians "  of  Manchester,  which 
regarded  Great  Britain  as  a  huge  co-operative  store.  Disraeli 
from  first  to  last  urged  the  especial  need  in  England  for  strong 
as  well  as  good  government.  The  faculties  for  government 
were  being  lessened  and  weakened.  It  was  not  one  side  only 
that  despaired  ;  Lord  John  Russell  himself  had  no  faith  in 
the  bare  democracy  of  the  colonial  feeling.  And  yet  we 
have  seen  what  Disraeli  wrote  of  Lord  John  in  The  Press 
at  this  very  period.  The  home  example  then  was  unpro- 
pitious  for  the  colonies.  Monarchy  was  yet  far  from 
popular.  What  Disraeli  feared  in  England — what  may 
still  be  dreaded  in  our  midst — was  the  possible  reaction — 
in  the  face  of  limited  employment  of  labour  and  growing 
tyranny  of  capital — from  detached  democracy  to  moneyed 
despotism.  "  Nor  is  there " — wrote  Disraeli,  with  pre- 
mature penetration,  in  The  Press  of  March  21,  1853 — "a 
country  in  the  world  in  which  the  reaction  from  democracy 
to  despotism  would  be  so  sudden  and  so  complete  as  in 
England,  because  in  no  other  country  is  there  the  same 
timidity  of  capital  ;  and  just  in  proportion  as  democratic 
progress  by  levelling  the  influences  of  birth  elevates  the 
influences  of  money,  does  it  create  a  power  that  would  at 
at  any  time  annihilate  liberty — if  liberty  were  brought  into 
opposition  with  the  three-per-cents."  The  effects  of  this 
fermenting  leaven  both  in  England  and  among  her  colonies 
had  to  be  weighed  ;  and  Disraeli  many  years  afterwards 
avowed  in  a  speech  that  for  a  moment  he  too  had  wavered. 
That  moment  was  the  one  of  this  passing  phrase.  But  it  stood 
for  a  phase  as  momentary.  Disraeli,  like  Strepsiades  in  the 
Attic  burlesque,  had  only  "  mislaid  his  cloak,  not  lost  it."  ^ 
Ten  years  later  he  could  advocate  our  colonial  empire  with 
effect  and  authority.  The  colonies  had  become — as  the 
Crown  had  become — a  popular  institution,  and  a  requisite 
for  the  fresh  air,  fresh  vents,  and  fresh  health  of  an  expanding 
population  cramped  by  now  overcrowded  towns.  They  might 
still  prove  a  recruiting  ground  for  labour.  Peel's  adoption  of 
the  "  physical  happiness  "  principle,  which  postulates  unlimited 


COLONIES  203 

employment  of  industry,  had  not  settled  that  problem  by  his 
"  liberation  of  commerce."  And,  as  Disraeli  pointed  out  in 
1873,  if  it  were  only  to  be  settled  by  natural  forces,  the 
"  unlimited  employment "  of  labour  made  for  the  erasement 
of  the  national  idea.  To  the  theoretic  Radical,  however,  the 
colonies,  like  all  our  institutions,  were  still  obstacles.  "...  To 
him  the  colonial  empire  is  only  an  annual  burden.  To  him 
corporation  is  an  equivalent  term  for  monopoly,  and  endow- 
ment for  privilege.  ..." 

Together  with  Disraeli's  name,  in  the  mention  of  early 
colonial  aspirations,  that  of  the  then  Sir  E.  Bulwer  Lytton 
should  assuredly  be  commemorated.  He,  too,  treated  colonial 
concerns,  during  his  brief  period  of  secretaryship,  with  firm- 
ness, insight,  and  adroitness.  Nor  should  it  be  forgotten  that 
between  the  two  was  a  link  of  romantic  imagination  as  well 
as  of  long-standing  friendship.  Years  before,  they  had  both 
contributed  to  the  Neiv  Monthly  Magazine.  Both  were  men 
of  striking  originality,  untempered  by  a  public  school  educa- 
tion ;  and  it  is  amusing  to  note  that  the  fantastic  strain, 
enabling  both  to  view  the  prospect  spaciously,  and  censured 
as  '*  un-English  "  ^  in  Disraeli — often  when  he  was  really  quot- 
ing from  our  classics  ^ — was  only  criticised  as  "  extravagant " 
in  Lytton,  or,  at  a  later  period,  as  "  ornate  "  in  Lord  Leighton. 
Both  were  students  and  interpreters  of  Bolingbroke.  They 
had  each  the  faculty  of  regarding  history  as  a  whole,  and  from 
a  high  vantage-ground,  instead  of  perverting  their  vision  of 
progress  by  the  paltry  rancours  of  the  moment.  Such  an 
instinct  is  invaluable  in  attaching  new  settlements  to  the  nest 
of  their  nurture. 

1  It  will  be  remembered  that  in  Coningshy  "  Rigby's"  election  speech 
called  everything  with  which  he  disagreed  "  un-English."  Dickens's 
satire  of  the  misuse  of  "  un-English"  in  the  person  of"  Podsnap"  may 
be  compared. 

2  "  Light 'and  leading,"  which  Disraeli  employed  long  before  the 
famous  letter  to  the  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  in  a  speech  of  1858, 
comes  of  course  from  Burke.  His  theory  of  the  House  of  Lords  in 
1861  as  "an  intermediate  body"  is  derived  from  Bolingbroke  and 
Burke.  "  Peace  with  honour "  he  employed  in  one  of  his  Crimean 
speeches.  Many  of  his  phrases  were  derived  from  the  works  of  his 
father. 


204  DISRAELI 

,  In  1863,  summarising  the  aspirations  of  Conservatism,  he 

\  spoke  of  "  our  colonial  empire,  ivhich  is  t/ie  national  estate, 
'  that  assures  to  every  subject,  ...  as  it  were,  a  freehold,  and 
:  which  gives  to  the  energies  and  abilities  of  Englishmen  an 
,  inexhaustible  theatre."  He  was  swift  to  discern  the  bearing 
of  crucial  alterations  in  America  on  the  colonies.  In  1864, 
while  the  civil  conflict  was  raging  in  the  United  States,  he 
urged,  regarding  them  :  "...  What  is  the  position  of  the 
colonies  and  dependencies  of  her  Majesty  in  that  country  } 
Four  years  ago,  when  the  struggle  broke  out,  there  was  very 
little  in  common  between  them.  The  tie  that  bound  them  to 
this  country  ivas  almost  one  of  formality ;  but  what  has  been 
the  consequence  of  this  great  change  in  North  America  .-'  You 
have  now  a  powerful  federation  ivith  the  element  of  nationality 
strongly  evinced  in  it.  They  count  their  population  by  millions, 
and  they  are  conscious  that  they  have  a  district  more  fertile 
and  an  extent  of  territory  equal  to  the  unappropriated  reserves 
of  the  United  States.  These  are  the  elements  and  prognostics 
of  nezv  influences  that  have  changed  the  character  of  that 
country.  Nor  is  it  without  reason  that  they  do  not  feel  less 
of  the  ambition  which  characterises  new  communities  than 
the  United  States,  and  that  they  may  become,  we  will  say, 
the  '  Russia  of  the  Nezv  World.'  ...  If  from  considerations 
of  expense  we  were  to  quit  the  possessions  that  we  now  occupy 
in  North  America,  it  would  be  ultimately,  as  regards  our 
resources  and  wealth,  as  fatal  a  step  as  could  possibly  be 
taken.  Our  prosperity  would  not  long  remain  a  consolation, 
and  we  might  then  prepare  for  the  ijivasion  of  oiir  country  and 
the  subjection  of  the  people"  And  he  next  insisted  on  the  need 
[of  Canada's  adequate  defence,  saying  that  while  we  would 
not  force  our  connection  on  any  dependency,  yet,  finding  our 
colonies  now  asserting  the  principle  of  their  nationality,  "... 
and  .  .  .  foreseeing  a  glorious  future,  .  .  .  still  depending  on 
the  faithful  and  affectionate  assistance  of  England,  it  would 
be  the  most  short-sighted  and  suicidal  policy  to  shrink  from 
\^  the  duty  that  Providence  has  called  upon  us  to  fulfil."  In 
1866,  again,  he  advocated  colonial  interests  in  Parliament, 
and,  by  a  fine  phrase,  warned  us  to  " .  .  .  recollect  that  Eng- 
land is  the  metropolis  of  a  colonial  empire ;  that  she  is  at  the 


COLONIES  205 

head  of  a  vast  number  of  colonies,  the  majority  of  which  are 
yearly  increasing  in  wealth  ;  and  that  every  year  these  colonies 
send  back  to  these  shores  their  capital  and  their  intelligence  in 
the  persons  of  distinguished  men,  who  are  naturally  anxious  that 
these  interests  should  be  represented  in  the  House  of  Commons!' 

But  it  was  in  1872  that  Disraeli  first  propounded  a 
colonial  policy  which  was  the  sum  of  many  previous  pro- 
nouncements, and  is  even  now  being  pondered,  and  not  by 
one  party  alone.  He  recognised  that  a  united  empire  implies 
a  united  nation  ;  that,  as  he  always  maintained,  Parliament 
represents  national  opinion,  and  that  colonial  opinion  and 
sentiment  at  last  formed  part  of  it. 

"  Gentlemen,"  urged  Disraeli,  "  there  is  another  and  second 
great  object  of  the  Tory  party.  If  the  first  is  to  maintain  the 
institutions  of  the  country,  the  second  is,  in  my  opinion,  to 
uphold  the  empire  of  England.  If  you  look  to  the  history  of 
this  country  since  the  advent  of  Liberalism — forty  years  ago — 
you  will  find  that  there  has  been  no  effort,  so  continuous,  so 
subtle,  supported  by  so  much  energy,  and  carried  on  with  so 
much  ability  and  acumen,  as  the  attempts  of  Liberalism 
to  ejfect  the  disintegration  of  the  empire  of  England.  States- 
men of  the  highest  character,  writers  of  the  most  distinguished 
ability,  the  most  organised  and  efficient  means  have  been 
employed  in  this  endeavour.  It  has  been  proved  to  all  of  us 
that  we  have  lost  money  by  our  colonies,"  Alluding  next  to 
the  "  incubus  "  in  the  passage  I  have  already  cited,  he  thus 
frankly  continues :  .  .  .  "  Well,  that  result  was  nearly  accom- 
plished when  these  subtle  views  were  adopted  by  the  country, 
under  the  plausible  plea  of  granting  self-government  to  the 
colonies.  I  confess  that  I  myself  thought  that  the  tie  was 
broken.  Not  that  I,  for  one,  object  to  self-government.  I  • 
cannot  conceive  how  our  distant  colonies  can  have  their 
affairs  administered  except  by  self-government.  But  self- 
government,  in  my  opinion,  ought  to  have  been  conceded,  as 
part  of  a  great  policy  of  imperial  consolidation.  It  ought  to 
have  been  accompanied  by  an  imperial  tariff,  by  seciirities  for  the 
people  of  England  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  unappropriated  lands 
ivhich  belonged  to  the  sovereign  as  their  trustee,  and  by  a 
military  code  which  shojdd  have  precisely  defined  the  means  and 


2o6  DISRAELI 

the  responsibilities  by  which  t/ie  colonies  should  be  defended,^ 
and  by  ivhich,  if  necessary,  the  country  should  call  for  aid  from 
the  colonies  themselves.  It  ought  further  to  have  been  accom- 
panied by  the  institution  of  some  representative  council  in  the 
metropolis,  which  would  have  brought  the  colonies  into  constant 
and  continuous  relations  with  the  home  Government.  All  this, 
however,  was  omitted  because  those  who  advised  that  policy — 
and  I  believe  their  convictions  were  sincere — looked  upon  the 
colonies  of  England,  looked  even  upon  our  connection  with 
India,  as  a  burden  upon  this  country,  viewing  everything  in  a 
financial  aspect,  and  totally  passing  by  those  moral  and  political 
considerations  which  make  nations  great,  and  by  the  influence  of 
which  alone  vien  are  distinguished  from  animals^ 

Here  we  have  a  foreseeing  and  a  far-seeing  policy.  Not 
a  point  of  this  forecast  but  has  engaged,  or  will  soon  engage, 
national  attention.  With  what  courage  and  sagacity  did 
Disraeli  hand  on  the  torch  of  Bolingbroke,  who,  first  of  English 
statesmen,  had  emphasised  the  significance  of  Gibraltar,  who 
foretold  England's  mission  as  "  a  Mediterranean  power,"  ^  and 
pictured  her  then  scanty  colonies  as  so  many  "  home  farms  "  ! 
None  can  now  doubt  the  sagacity  ;  and  if  any  doubt  the 
courage,  they  have  only  to  peruse  the  warnings  of  that 
commercial  Cassandra,  Mr.  Bright,  who,  during  the  manu- 
factured reaction  of  1879,  unconsciously  justified  Disraeli's 
predictions  of  seven  years  before.  After  cataloguing  his 
"  annexations  "  like  an  auctioneer,  he  thus  proceeded  to  stir 
passion  and  impute  motives — 

"...  All  this  adds  to  your  burdens.  Just  listen  to  this : 
they  add  to  the  burdens,  not  of  the  empire,  but  of  the 
33,000,000  of  people  who  inhabit  Great  Britain  and  Ireland. 
We  take  the  burden  and  pay  the  charge.  This  policy  may 
lend  a  seeming  glory  to  the  Crown,  and  it  may  give  scope 
for  patronage  and  promotion,  and  pay  a  pension  to  a  limited 
and  favoured  class.  But  to  you,  the  people,  it  brings  expendi- 
ture of  blood  and  treasure,  increased  debts  and  taxes,  and 
adds  risk  of  war  in  every  part  of  the  globe." 

1  He  had  in  an  earlier  speech  considered  this  question  with  regard  to 
Canada. 

2  This  very  phrase  was  repeated  by  Lord  Beaconsfield  in  1876, 


COLONIES  207 

Is  sense  more  conspicuous  than  charity  in  this  onslaught  ? 
Has  it  not  been  proved  penny  wise,  pound  foolish  ?  Could  a 
better  instance  be  adduced  of  a  contrast  between  England 
as  an  emporium  and  Great  Britain  as  a  united  empire  ?  ^ 
In  many  respects  I  honour  Mr.  Bright.  He  at  least  had  the 
courage  of  his  honest  convictions.  He  was  against  war 
altogether  ;  but  in  being  so  he  opposed  the  instincts  of  rising 
nationalities  and  tried  to  lull  Great  Britain  into  a  fool's 
paradise  of  international  exhibitions.  It  is  now  asserted  that 
Russia  could  not  advance  through  Persia  to  India  without  a 
bristling  series  of  bayonets.  This  is  not  to  be  wished,  but  is 
it  to  be  feared  ?  Of  "  Peace  at  any  price,"  Disraeli  said  with 
truth — and  truth  in  the  interests  of  general  peace — that  it  was 
a  "  dangerous  doctrine,  which  had  done  more  mischief  and 
caused  more  wars  than  the  most  ruthless  conquerors."  What 
happened  ?  Mr.  Bright  at  a  bound  converted  Mr.  Gladstone. 
It  was  a  mutual  necessity.  Neither  of  them  without  the 
other  could  have  swayed  the  commercial  classes  and  "  the 
lower  middles."  Mr.  Gladstone  was  Don  Quixote  ;  Mr.  Bright, 
Sancho  Panza.  Mr.  Gladstone  appealed  to  the  nation  ;  Mr. 
Bright,  with  sincere  power  and  definite  ideals,  to  a  class.  Mr, 
Gladstone  appealed  to  the  customs  and  institutions  which  he 
heroically  assailed  ;  Mr,  Bright  attacked  more  directly  and 
without  even  the  show  of  sympathy.  Here  Mr,  Gladstone 
was  Girondin  ;  Mr.  Bright,  Jacobin.  Mr.  Gladstone's  conviction 
of  being  "the  legate  of  the  skies,"  his  electric  temperament, 
devout  genius,  practical  fervour  and  "  connection,"  both  ideal- 
ised and  popularised  the  doggedness  and  the  narrowness  of  Mr. 
Bright's  democratic  doctrine.  But  Mr.  Bright  was  consistent. 
He  was  against  any  fight  for  united  nationality.  He  would 
never  have  embarked  on  war  at  all,  and  so  could  never  have 
withdrawn  from  struggle  at  the  wrong  moment.  He  never 
deluded  himself  or  others.  It  might  be  said  that  the  author  of 
the  essay  on  "  Church  and  State  "  led  the  "  Nonconformist  con- 
science "  to  the  altar,  and  that  the  eloquent  denouncer  both 
of  Church  and  State  gave  the  bride  away.  But  the  chivalrous 
knight- errant  could  not  quite  forego  the  Dulcinea  of  his  youth. 

^  This  point  is  admirably  elucidated  by  Mr.  Ewald  in  his  "  Life  and 
Times  of  Lord  Beaconsfield," 


2o8  DISRAELI 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Mr.  Gladstone,  still  by  inadvertence, 
used  occasionally  to  stumble  upon  the  word  "empire"  in  his 
speeches.  Peel  himself  had  called  it  "  wonderful "  !  Lord 
John  Russell  had  employed  it  in  1855.  It  was  a  word  born 
with  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  familiar  throughout  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne.  Chatham's  clarion  rang  with  it.  The  poet 
Cowper,  whom  none  can  accuse  of  egotism  or  of  bombast, 
repeats  it  with  a  glow  of  pride.  But  Mr.  Bright,  unless  I  mis- 
take, never  condescended  to  breathe  the  name  or  condone  the 
thing.  Mr.  Gladstone  regained  power,  and  ran  riot — the  riot  of 
the  best  intentions  in  the  worst  sense  of  the  phrase.  The 
policy  of  "  scuttle  "  ensued — from  what  motives  I  stop  not  here 
to  inquire.  We  abandoned  Kandahar,  "  annexed  "  through  a 
need  caused  by  past  vacillations  and  repulses  of  the  Ameer  ; 
but,  together  with  conditions  for  rendering  him  independent  of 
Russia's  natural  intrigues.  We  abandoned  it  just  when  the 
disasters  of  the  Soudan  again  invited  Russian  encroachment. 
We  abandoned  the  Transvaal  at  the  first  blush  of  defeat. 
*'  Peace,  Retrenchment,  and  Reform  "  culminated  in  war,  extra- 
vagance, and  confusion.  The  trumpeters  of  impolitic  economy, 
proposing  expenditure  and  yet  dangling  the  repeal  of  some 
tax  to  gratify  "  the  interests  or  prejudices  of  the  party  of 
retrenchment,"  were,  in  Disraeli's  phrase  of  1861,  "penurious 
prodigals."  Upright  "  prigs  and  pedants,"  intruding  private 
opinions  on  public  affairs,  honest  hypocrites  who  deceived 
themselves  and  hoped  to  persuade  the  sceptics  of  the  world, 
preachers  of  theories  to  the  winds,  all  played  with  crucial  issues 
and  trifled  solemnly  with  a  cynical  Continent.  The  school- 
master was  abroad.  We  took  Egypt  against  our  will,  and 
promised  not  to  retain  it.  We  cried,  "  Hands  off,  Austria !  " 
and  apologised  for  doing  so.  We  prepared  for  necessitating 
the  most  exceptional  war  of  modern  times.  It  was  the  policy 
of  panic  and  disunion,  the  policy  of  alternate  weakness  and 
bluster,  the  policy  that  by  turns  coaxed  and  coerced  Ireland, 
allured  and  abandoned  Gordon  ;  it  was  a  policy  of  private 
magnanimity  at  the  public  expense,  and  not  the  policy  of 
wise  consolidation  and  calculated  outlets.  It  was  not  the 
policy  of  diplomacies  at  once  instructed,  firm,  and  gentle.  Nor 
was    it  one  of   defined   spheres,    regulated   boundaries,    and 


EMPIRE   AND  FOREIGN   POLICY    209 

fortified  "  gates  of  empire."  Yet  it  led  us  to  "  expenditure  of 
blood  and  treasure,"  And  if  we  have  since — and  not,  as  I 
believe,  in  the  spirit  or  with  the  precautions  of  Disraeli — 
been  forced  to  retrace  our  steps,  it  is  due  to  these  retail 
maxims  of  Mr.  Bright,  and  not  to  the  wholesale  creed  of  Lord 
Beaconsfield. 

But  the  temper  of  his  "  Imperialism,"  whatever  may  have  / 
been  momentarily  suspected  or  sneered  at,  was  never  aggres-  f 
sive,  and  always  deliberate.  It  was  for  defence,  not  defiance  ;  ' 
it  was  no  grandiose  illusion,  no  gaudy  show  of  spurious  glory  ;  j 
no  froth  or  fuss  of  sound  and  fury  signifying  nothing.  / 

"  ^Twas  not  the  hasty  project  of  a  day. 
But  the  well-ripened  fruit  of  wise  delay. ^'' 

It  ran  utterly  counter,  as  he  declared  in  1862,  to  "  that  turbulent 
diplomacy  which  distracts  the  mind  of  a  people  from  internal 
improvement."  Just  as  internally  his  statesmanship  guarded 
against  the  predominance  of  any  particular  class,  so  extern- 
ally the  only  ground  for  British  intervention  was  for  him  the 
undue  predominance  of  a  particular  power  against  English 
or  the  general  interests.  Throughout  he  sought  what  Lord 
Castlereagh  had  also  attempted,  the  solidarity  of  Europe.  No 
doubt,  like  all  great  men  of  action,  he  made  mistakes  and 
committed  errors.  He  owned  as  much  himself.  But  I  believe 
that  history  will  justify  the  height  from  which  he  sur- 
veyed the  scene,  his  reach  and  sweep  of  vision,  the  depth, 
too,  of  an  insight  piercing  far  below  the  surface.  In  one 
respect  at  least  he  may  be  said  to  have  resembled  Napoleon 
— "his  vast  and  fantastic  conception  of  policy."  I  do  not 
deny  that  he  wished  to  strike  the  imagination  ;  I  do  not  deny 
that  occasionally  the  direct  response  may  have  missed  fire  ; 
but  I  submit  that  on  the  whole  his  policy  was  right,  that 
its  final  effects  rarely  disappointed  intention,  and  that  it  has 
left  pregnant  and  abiding  results.  His  aim  was  what  the 
late  Lord  Salisbury  afterwards  declared  as  his  own,  to  "  resume 
the  thread  of  our  ancient  empire  ; "  and,  as  Macaulay  has 
remarked  of  George  Savile,  Marquis  of  Halifax,  who  was  also 
twitted  with  inconsistency  :  " .  .  .  Through  a  long  public  life, 
and  through  frequent  and  violent  changes  of  public  feeling, 


2FO  DISRAELI 

he  almost  invariably  took  that  view  of  the  great  questions  of 
his  time  which  history  has  finally  adopted."  At  home  on 
leading  issues  he  had  strengthened  the  power  of  Government 
by  representing  worthy  opinion,  and  by  renewing  the  affection 
of  the  people  for  their  institutions  in  the  struggle  to  maintain 
united  English  nationality  against  disruptive  forces.  It  was 
reserved  for  him  to  reawaken  the  slumbering  sense  of  what 
had  once  been  an  arousing  reality — the  duties  of  an  august 
empire  over  many  associated  races  and  religions,  the  due 
greatness  of  Great  Britain,  the  high  destinies  and  ennobling 
burdens  of  an  ancient  nation  appointed  to  rule  the  seas. 

The  keynote  was  sounded  in  that  very  speech  of  1862, 
when  he  repeated  what  he  had  often  before  objected  to  the 
robust  Lord  Palmerston's  frequently  flustering  methods,  but 
added  that  "...  we  should  be  vigilant  to  guard  and  prompt 
to  vindicate  the  honour  of  the  country.  On  an  earlier 
occasion,  he  laid  stress  on  the  diplomatic  duty  of  "...  if 
necessary,  saying  rough  things  kindly,  and  not  kind  things 
roughly  ; "  while  from  first  to  last,  however,  as  head  of  oppo- 
sition, he  disapproved  a  foreign  policy  which  landed  us  in 
superfluous  engagements,  he  always  supported  the  Govern- 
ment when  the  crisis  became  really  national.  In  1864,  criti- 
cising the  Palmerstonian  management  of  the  Danish  imbroglio, 
he  remarked  :  "...  I  am  not  for  war.  I  can  contemplate 
with  difficulty  the  combination  of  circumstances  which  can 
justify  war  in  the  present  age  tmless  the  honour  of  the  country 
is  likely  to  suffer y 

Two  more  of  his  ruling  principles  were,  first,  that  the 
ripe  moment  is  half  the  battle  in  national  attitude  towards 
distant  complications  ;  and  second,  the  importance,  under  our 
system,  of  distinguishing  between  what  a  minister,  backed 
by  a  large  parliamentary  majority,  decides  in  home  and 
in  foreign  affairs.  His  prescient  criticisms  on  both  the 
source  and  the  course  of  the  Crimean  War  illustrate  the 
one  ;  his  deliverance,  in  a  speech  of  May,  1855 — a  speech 
prescribing  a  most  statesmanlike  policy  towards  both  Russia 
and   Turkey,   part  only  of  which  ^  he  was  able   more   than 

'  Chiefly  that  of  the  Turkish  frontier  in  Europe,  and  of  the  Russian 
in  Asia. 


EMPIRE   AND   FOREIGN   POLICY    211 

twenty  years  later  to  execute,  the  other  :  " .  .  .  A  minister 
may,  by  the  aid  of  a  parliamentary  majority,  support 
unjust  laws,  and  ...  a  political  system  which  a  quarter  of  a 
century  afterwards  may,  by  the  aid  of  another  parliamentary 
majority,  be  condemned.  The  passions,  the  prejudices,  and 
the  party  spirit  that  flourish  in  a  free  country  may  support 
and  uphold  him.  .  .  .  But  when  you  come  to  foreign  politics 
things  are  very  different.  Every  step  that  you  take  is  an 
irretrievable  one.  .  .  .  You  cannot  rescind  your  policy.  .  .  . 
If  you  make  a  mistake  in  foreign  affairs  ;  if  you  enter  into 
unwise  treaties  ;  ...  if  the  scope  and  tendency  of  your 
foreign  system  are  founded  on  a  want  of  information  or  false 
information,  .  .  .  there  is  no  majority  in  the  House  of 
Commons  which  can  long  uphold  a  Government  under  such 
circumstances.  It  will  not  make  a  Government  strong,  but 
it  will  make  this  House  weak.  .  .  ." 

Throughout,  his  policy  was  that  of  confederation,  not 
annexation  ;  of  "  scientific  frontiers  "  safeguarding  ascertained^ 
"spheres  of  influence  ;"  of  binding,  not  loosing  ;  of  a  strong, 
front  but  a  soft  mien  ;  of  persuasion,  if  possible,  rather  than  ' 
compulsion — as  he  always  recommended  in  framing  measures 
to  protect  labour  and  improve  society  ;  of  a  straight  line 
steadfastly  pursued,  instead  of  wobble,  worry,  and  flurry  ; 
first  beating  the  air,  and  then — a  retreat ;  at  once  headstrong 
and  weak-kneed.  Although  his  "  Imperialism "  was  by  no 
means  that  which  has  occasionally  since  usurped  the  name, 
assuredly,  in  upholding  the  burden  of  Great  Britain's  destiny, 
he  would  never  have  recoiled  from  "the  too  vast  orb  of  her 
fate."  Disraeli's  imperialism  was  not  the  bastard  and  braggart 
sort  that  he  once  styled  "  rowdy  rhetoric  ;  "  nor  the  official  sort 
to  which  he  sarcastically  alluded  when  Lord  Palmerston,  in 
1855,  took  credit  for  accepting  Lord  John  Russell's  resignation, 
and  was  "  ready  to  stand  or  fall  by  him  :  "  "  The  noble  Lord 
is  neither  standing  nor  falling,  but,  on  the  contrary,  he  has 
remained  sitting  on  the  Treasury  bench."  Associated  with 
it,  lay  a  deep  sense  of  obligation  in  the  choice  of  high  character, 
ability,  and  spirit  to  carry  it  out  ;  the  sense  too  that  a  momen- 
tary mistake  should  never  sacrifice  excellent  proconsuls  to 
the    "hare-brained   chatter  of   irresponsible  frivolity;"    the 


2  12  DISRAELI 

resolve  also  never  to  shirk  responsibility  by  making  scape- 

I  goats.     And,  beyond  all,  a  feeling  that  in  dealing  even  with 
semi-barbarous   nations,   it  was  neither  magnanimous,  wise, 
nor   dignified  to  crush  them  utterly,  and  that  their  feelings, 
,  prejudices,  and  customs  ought  to  be  respected. 

Perhaps  no  better  example  could  be  given  than  his  attitude 
regarding  the  events  of  1879  i"  South  Africa.  The  Zulus 
had  threatened  and  harassed  an  impoverished  and  resource- 
less  Transvaal.  The  Transvaal  had  requested  and  obtained 
"  annexation "  from  Great  Britain.  But  the  Zulu  chief, 
irritated  by  the  suppression  of  the  "  suzerainty  "  arrogated 
by  him  over  the  Boer  lands,  began  to  beset  the  Natal 
borders.  The  Governor  of  Natal  was  for  appeasing  them. 
Sir  Bartle  Frere,  however,  that  commanding  High  Com- 
missioner of  South  Africa,  took  an  opposite  view,  and  favoured 
a  course  unmistakable  for  weakness.  In  his  conferences 
with  Cetchwayo  he  made  requisitions,  on  his  own  initiative, 
exceeding  his  instructions  from  home.  The  result  was  war, 
with  the  disaster  of  Isandhlwana,  the  rally  of  Rorke's  Drift, 
and  eventual  success.  During  March  the  matter  was  brought 
before  the  House  of  Lords  in  a  form  arranged  to  censure  the 
Government  policy,  but  so  worded  as  to  restrict  the  debate 
to  the  advisability  of  Sir  Bartle  Frere's  recall  on  the  ground 
of  his  unauthorised  ultimatum. 

Disraeli's  speech  is  worthy  of  close  attention,  if  only 
because  it  forecasts  the  ultimate  federation  of  South  Africa. 
Disraeli  defended  Sir  Bartle  on  the  score  that  to  succeed 
in  impugning  error,  if  error  it  was,  of  a  distinguished  public 
servant  chosen  by  the  Crown,  was  to  impugn  its  prerogative. 
"  Great  services  are  not  cancelled  by  one  act  or  one  single  error, 
however  it  may  be  regretted  at  the  moment.  If  he  had  been 
recalled  ...  in  deference  to  the  panic,  the  thoughtless  panic 
of  the  hour,  in  deference  to  those  who  have  no  responsibility 
in  the  matter,  and  who  have  not  weighed  well  and  deeply 
investigated  all  the  circumstances  and  all  the  arguments  .  .  . 
which  .  .  .  must  be  appealed  to  to  influence  our  opinions  in 
such  questions — no  doubt  a  certain  degree  of  odium  might 
have  been  diverted  from  the  heads  of  her  Majesty's  ministers, 
and  the  world  would  have  been  delighted,  as  it  always  is,  to 


EMPIRE   AND   FOREIGN   POLICY    213 

find  a  victim.  .  .  .  We  had  only  one  course  to  pursue,  ...  to 
take  care  that  at  this  most  critical  period  .  .  .  affairs  ...  in 
South  Africa  should  be  directed  by  one,  not  only  qualified  to 
direct  them,  but  who  was  superior  to  any  other  individual 
whom  we  could  have  selected  for  the  purpose." 

It  would  be  a  bad  precedent,  he  resumed,  for  the  safety  of 
the  empire  if  an  exceptional  indiscretion  were  to  efface  a  long 
record  of  signal  ability  ;  and  he  drew  to  the  recollection  of  the 
House  ^  the  case  of  Sir  James  Hudson  at  Turin,  whose  conduct 
had  been  similarly  attacked,  and  whom  he,  as  the  leader  of  the 
Opposition,  had  refused  to  make  a  party  question,  and  had 
himself  then  defended  on  the  same  public  considerations. 
But  adverting  to  policy,  he  used  these  weighty  words — 

"...  Sir  Bartle  Frere  was  selected  by  the  noble  Lord 
(Carnarvon)  .  .  .  chiefly  to  secure  one  great  end — namely,  to 
carry  out  that  policy  of  CONFEDERATION  in  South  Africa  which 

*  A  most  interesting  collection  might  be  made  of  Disraeli's  ready  and 
fluent  illustration  by  precedents.  For  of  precedent  his  memory  was  quite 
as  retentive  as  Gladstone's.  In  his  famous  Address  to  the  Crown  of  1864, 
he  was  sharply  blamed  for  referring  to  "  the  just  influence  of  England 
being  lowered  "  in  the  extraordinary  tangle  of  alternate  brag  and  whimper 
that  attended  the  Government's  action  in  the  Danish  embroilment.  This 
language  was  solemnly  declared  "  unprecedented  since  the  great  days  of 
the  Norths  and  the  Foxes."  But  Disraeli  instantly  proved  that  Fox 
himself  had  used  language  in  his  own  Address  far  more  violent  and 
censorious  of  the  Ministry  in  1846.  So,  again,  on  at  least  two  occasions 
when  the  phrases  "  political  morality "  and  "  political  infamy "  were 
bandied  for  partisan  purposes,  he  effectively  hurled  back  the  taunts  in  the 
teeth  of  their  inventors,  and  refuted  present  profession  by  past  conduct. 
When  Palmerston  again  twitted  him,  in  1846,  he  received  a  reminder 
which  brought  home  the  jaunty  service  of  seven  successive  Administra- 
tions, and  all  this,  though  he  never  attacked  small  game,  and  never  any 
"  unless  he  had  been  first  assailed."  In  the  earlier  numbers  of  The  Press 
are  many  most  interesting  historical  instances  of  how  "  principles  "  may 
be  confused  with  "  measures,"  when  the  latter  have  to  be  relinquished  in 
office  from  the  practical  duty  of  carrying  on  the  Governtnenf,  while  at 
the  same  time  the  former  can  be  developed  in  other  directions  when 
the  national  condemnation  of  the  particular  measure  is  deliberate.  So  Fox 
had  acted  towards  Catholic  emancipation,  Russell  towards  the  Appropria- 
tion Bill,  the  Whigs  in  the  'forties  towards  the  Income  Tax,  and  Disraeli 
in  1852  towards  "Protection."  So,  he  argued  in  many  previous  utter- 
ances, the  principle  must  now  be  followed  by  relieving  the  land,  now 
placed  under  unfair  conditions  of  competition,  of  its  burdens. 


2  14  DISRAELI 

the  noble  Lord  had  carried  out  on  a  previous  occasion  with 
regard  to  the  North  American  colonies. 

"  If  there  is  any  policy  which,  in  my  mind,  is  opposed  to 
the  policy  of  annexatioti,  it  is  that  of  confederation.  By  pur- 
suing the  policy  of  confederation,  we  bind  states  together,  we 
consolidate  their  resources,  and  we  enable  them  to  establish  a 
strong  frontier ;  that  is  the  best  security  against  annexation. 
I  myself  regard  a  policy  of  annexatioti  zuith  great  distriist.  I 
believe  that  tJie  reasons  of  state  which  induced  us  to  atmex  the 
Transvaal  ivere  not,  on  the  whole,  perfectly  sound.  But  what 
were  these  circumstances  ?  .  .  .  The  Transvaal  was  a  terri- 
tory which  was  no  longer  defended  by  its  occupiers.  .  .  .  The 
annexation  of  that  province  ivas  .  .  .  a  geographical  necessity. 

"  But  the  '  annexation '  of  the  Transvaal  was  one  of  the 
reasons  why  those  who  were  connected  with  that  province 
might  have  calculated  upon  the  permanent  existence  of  Zulu- 
land  as  an  independent  state.  I  know  it  is  said  that,  when 
we  are  at  war,  as  we  unfortunately  now  are,  with  the  Zulus, 
or  any  other  savage  nation,  even  though  we  inflicted  upon 
them  some  great  disaster,  and  might  effect  an  arrangement 
with  them  of  a  peaceable  character,  before  long  the  same 
power  would  again  attack  us,  unless  we  annexed  the  terri- 
tory. /  have  never  considered  that  a  legitimate  argument  in 
favour  of  annexation  of  a  barbarous  comttry.  .  .  .  Similar  results 
might  occur  in  Europe  if  we  went  to  war  with  one  of  our 
neighbours.  .  .  .  But  is  that  an  argument  luhy  we  should  not 
hold  our  hand  until  we  have  completely  crushed  our  adversary, 
and  is  that  any  reason  why  we  should  pursue  a  policy  of  exter- 
mination ivith  j-egard  to  a  barbarous  nation  with  wJiom  we 
happen  to  be  at  war  ?  That  is  a  policy  which  I  hope  ivill  never 
be  sanctioned  by  this  House. 

"  It  is,  of  course,  possible  that  we  may  again  be  involved 
in  war  with  the  Zulus  ;  but  it  is  an  equal  chance  that  in  the 
development  of  circumstances  in  that  part  of  the  world,  the 
Zulu  people  may  have  to  invoke  the  aid  and  the  alliance  of 
England  against  some  other  people,  and  that  the  policy 
dictated  by  feelings  and  influence  which  have  regulated  our 
conduct  with  regard  to  European  states,  may  be  successfully 
pursued   with  regard   to  less  civilised  nations  in  a  different 


EMPIRE   AND   FOREIGN   POLICY    215 

part  of  the  world.  This  is  the  policy  of  her  Majesty's  Govern- 
ment, and  therefore  they  cannot  be  in  favour  of  a  policy  of 
annexation,  because  it  is  directly  opposed  to  it.  .  .  ." 

The  same  considerations,  those  of  settled  and  settling 
limits — considerations,  let  me  repeat,  directly  opposed  to  a 
vague  and  wavering  policy  fraught  with  encroachments, 
alarm,  and  haphazard  embroilment — were  to  actuate  his 
policy  towards  Afghanistan  during  1879,  into  the  vexed 
details  of  which  I  shall  not  now  enter,  though  they  might 
be  reviewed  with  instruction  ;  the  policy,  too,  that  recognised 
that  English  vacillation  would  at  once  be  magnified  into 
weakness  throughout  the  bazaars  of  the  Orient.^ 

The  "  insane  annexation  "  of  that  fortress-citadel,  Kan- 
dahar, it  has  often  been  objected,  was  the  most  vulner- 
able of  Disraeli's  schemes.  There  are  many  entitled  to 
respect  who  still  hold  that  it  was  rightly  and  profitably 
rescinded.  Moreover,  the  tragic  sequel  of  the  heroic  Cava- 
gnari's  death  prejudiced  the  public.  But  the  chain  of  events 
which  required,  the  conciliatory  conditions  which  accompanied 
it,  and  the  true  causes,  or  pretexts,  for  its  annulment  with 
virulence,  should  be  carefully  remembered.  A  former  Vice- 
roy's mistake  in  rebuffing  the  friendly  overtures  of  the 
Afghans,  the  Muscovite  move  forward  in  Central  Asia,  while 
war  was  in  the  air,  the  consequent  intrigues  at  Cabul,  per- 
turbed by  dynastic  broils — these  were  some  of  the  warrants  for 
its  necessity.  Fresh  Russian  manoeuvres  and  advances,  owing 
to  a  fatally  feeble  policy  in  the  Soudan,  were  parts  of  the 
lever  for  its  relinquishment.     The  highest  military  authorities 

*  Of  Disraeli's  Indian  policy  this  much  may  here  be  noted.  While 
allowing  Russia  to  expand  where  she  was  entitled  or  compelled  by  war,  or 
allowed  by  opening  intrigues,  he  wished  to  baffle  her  as  against  Great 
Britain. 

(i)  By  an  independent  Afghanistan,  with  a  proper  frontier  and  its 
Indian  "  gates  "  barred. 

(2)  By  preventing  Russia  through  Turkestan's  approaches  to  Afghan 

and  Persia's  eastern  border. 

(3)  "^'V  precluding  her  from  Persia's  western  border  through  the  regions 

of  the  Euphrates  Valley,  {a)  through  making  Turkey  compact  in 
Asia(Erzeroum  and  Bayazid)  ;  (i^)  through  Cyprus  guarding  the 
Mediterranean  approaches. 


2  16  DISRAELT 

sanctioned  it  at  the  time,  though  other  high  military  authorities 
disapproved  a  few  years  later.  But  when  it  is  borne  in  mind 
that  Disraeli's  previous  occupation  of  Quetta,  the  key  both 
to  Kandahar  and  the  Pishin  valley,  is  now  a  large  canton- 
ment, that  a  railway  is  ready  to  be  laid  to  within  no  great 
distance  of  Kandahar  itself  on  any  fresh  emergency,  it  may 
well  be  pondered  whether  Disraeli  was  mistaken,  and  whether 
time  has  not  confounded  the  triflers  who  caricatured  him  as  a 
music-hall  singer,  with  the  refrain — 

"  I  wear  a  jewel  in  my  cap — 

Kandahar,  Kandahar." 

It  was  no  mere  question  of  a  "  buffer  "  state.  It  formed 
a  weighty  part  of  his  great  and  pacific  project  for  safeguard- 
ing the  "gates"  of  our  Indian  Empire.  Of  the  three  main 
approaches  then  open  to  Russia — entitled  in  her  own 
interests  to  use  them,  as  he  always  admitted — the  south- 
eastern limits  of  Afghanistan  command  the  long  high-road 
which  leads  to  the  distant  north-western  borders  and  the 
"gate"  of  Herat.  Moreover,  they  dominate  one  of  the  im- 
portant trade  routes  to  Northern  India.  The  remote  side  of 
the  Indus  can  thus  be  used  as  a  protection  against  the  remoter 
side  of  the  Oxus.  At  the  same  time,  Disraeli  subsidised  the 
Afghans,  and  when  their  Ameer,  under  Russian  influence,  in- 
sulted our  envoy,  treated  them  at  first  "  like  spoiled  children." 
His  aim  was — as  always  in  his  whole  policy — a  compact 
independence.  "  Both  in  the  East  and  West,"  he  observed, 
"  our  object  is  to  have  prosperous,  happy,  and  contented  neigh- 
bonrs.  But  these  are  things  which  cannot  be  done  in  a  day. 
You  cannot  settle  them  as  you  would  pay  a  morning  visit." 
He  was  building  the  foundations  for  a  lasting  peace.  At 
any  rate,  the  rectified  frontier,  which  as  he  pointed  out  could 
be  held  by  five  thousand  men,  while  a  "  haphazard  "  frontier 
demanded  twenty  times  that  number,  is  unimpugned.  Nor 
should  those  who  speak  of  a  smoothed  Ameer  and  an  un- 
ruffled Cabul,  after  Kandahar  was  evacuated,  forget  that,  since 
Merv  has  become  Russian,  the  old  dynastic  intrigues  and 
tribe  feuds  may,  one  day,  readily  recur  at  Cabul,  fresh  oppor- 
tunities encourage  Russia,  and  a  reoccupation  of  this  cancelled 
coign    of    vantage    become    imperative.      "  The    science    of 


INDIA  217 

politics,"  as  Macaulay  well  says,  "  is  an  experimental  science." 
Disraeli  excelled  most  statesmen  in  his  intuitive  grasp  of 
Indian  affairs.  Peel  himself,  shortly  before  his  death,  pro- 
phesied that  Disraeli,  "when  his  hour  struck,"  would  be 
"  Governor-General  of  India." 

The  same  principles,  as  will  appear,  prompted  the  masterly 
and  masterful  Treaty  of  Berlin.  The  same,  caused  him  to 
exclaim  of  Russia,  whose  designs  he  had  thwarted  in  India 
and  foiled  at  Constantinople,  in  memorable  language,  that  in 
Asia  there  was  "  room  enough  "  for  her  and  for  us  ;  yet  that, 
though  in  the  face  of  possible  conflict,  she  was  entitled  to 
equip  her  expedition  of  courtesy  to  "cool  the  hoofs  of  its 
horses  in  the  waters  of  the  Oxus,"  she  must  be  induced  to 
withdraw  it  by  our  own  counter-preventions.  But  what  I 
wish  here  particularly  to  illustrate  is,  the  psychological  point 
of  respect  for  and  reckoning  with  the  habits,  wants,  and  tradi- 
tions of  other  or  alien  civilisations.  It  rested  on  an  idea 
familiar  to  his  youth,  and  which  he  thus  expressed  in  a  soli- 
loquy of  Alroy :  "Universal  empire  must  not  be  founded 
on  sectarian  principles  and  exclusive  rights.  .  .  .  Something 
must  be  done  to  bind  the  conquered  to  our  conquering 
fortunes." 

It  was  signally  evinced  in  his  treatment — his  exceptional 
treatment  when  Opposition  leader — of  the  Indian  Mutiny. 
At  that  time  Disraeli  alone  seemed  to  grasp  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  outbreak  in  its  initial  stage,  which  was  viewed  as 
a  mere  military  rebellion,  and  regarded  as  lightly,  and  with 
as  little  reason,  as  the  beginnings  of  the  Boer  War. 

"  It  is  remarkable,"  he  urged,  before  the  crisis  became 
recognised,  "  how  insignificant  incidents  at  the  first  blush  have 
appeared  which  have  proved  to  be  pregnant  with  momentous 
consequences.  A  street  riot  in  Boston  and  at  Paris,  turned 
out  to  be  the  two  great  revolutions  of  modern  times.  Who 
would  have  supposed  when  we  first  heard  of  the  rude  visit  of  a 
Russian  sailor  from  a  port  in  the  Black  Sea  to  Constantinople, 
that  we  were  on  the  eve  of  a  critical  war  and  the  solution 
of  the  most  difficult  of  modern  problems.''"  It  was,  he  con- 
tended, a  national  revolt,  not  a  military  mutiny.  In  our 
policy   of  the   immediate    past    we    had    forcibly   destroyed 


2i8  DISRAELI 

native  authority  for  the  sole  object  of  increasing  revenue. 
"  In  spite  of  the  law  of  adoption,  which  was  the  very  corner- 
stone of  Hindoo  society,  when  a  native  prince  died  without 
natural  heirs,  though  a  son  had  been  adopted  as  a  successor, 
the  Government  of  India  annexed  his  dominions.  Sattara, 
Berar,  Jeitpore,  Sumbulpore,  Jhansi,  were  monuments  of 
'  nefarious  '  acquisition.  And  Oade,  of  '  a  wholesale  system 
of  spoliation,'  for  it  had  been  annexed  even  without  the 
pretext  of  a  lawful  failure  of  heirs." 

We  had  also  disturbed  the  settlement  of  property  by  "a 
new  system  of  government."  He  analysed  the  popular  law 
of  adoption  as  the  basis  of  Hindoo  property,  and  as  contrasted 
with  its  misuse  in  the  hands  of  princes  as  a  source  of  succes- 
sion. He  gave  many  instances,  distinguishing  each.  "  What 
man  was  safe,  what  feudatory,  what  freeholder  who  had  not 
a  child  of  his  own  loins,  was  safe  throughout  India  ?  .  .  .  The 
Government  determined  to  exact  all  it  could,  not  only  from 
princes,  but  from  the  people."  The  exemptions  from  the  land 
tax — "the  ivhole  taxation  of  the  State  " — had,  under  pretences, 
been  continually  taken  away.  The  resumption  of  estates  in 
Bengal  alone  had  yielded  the  Government  half  a  million  of 
revenue  ;  in  Bombay  alone  ;^370,ooo  a  year.  Moreover, 
hereditary  pensions  had  been  commuted  into  personal  an- 
nuities. These  disturbances  had  naturally  fomented  these 
discontents. 

We  had,  moreover,  tampered  with  the  Hindoo  religion. 
"...  I  think  a  very  great  error  exists  as  to  the  assumed 
prejudice  of  Hindoos  with  regard  to  what  is  called  missionary 
enterprise.  The  fact  is  that  .  .  .  the  Indian  population 
generally,  with  the  exception  of  the  Mussulmans,  are 
educated  in  a  manner  which  peculiarly  disposes  them  to 
theological  inquiries.  .  .  .  They  are  a  most  ancient  race  ; 
they  have  a  mass  of  tradition  on  these  subjects ;  a  complete 
Indian  education  is  to  a  great  degree  religious  ;  their  laws, 
their  tenure  of  land  depend  upon  religion  ;  and  there  is  no 
race  in  the  world  better  armed  at  all  points  for  theological 
discussion.  .  .  .  Add  to  this,  that  they  can  always  fall  back 
upon  an  educated  priesthood  prepared  to  supply  them  with 
arguments  and  illustrations.  .  .  .  But  what  the  Huidoo  does 


INDIA  219 

regard  with  suspicion  is  tJie  union  of  missionary  enterprise 
zuith  the  political pozver  of  the  Government.  With  that  power 
he  associates  only  one  idea,  violence.  ...  It  appears  to  me 
that  the  legislative  council  of  India  has,  under  the  new 
principle,  been  constantly  nibbling  at  the  religious  system  of 
the  natives."  It  had  tried  to  adapt  Western  systems  to 
Oriental  habits.  In  its  theoretical  system  of  national  educa- 
tion the  "sacred  Scriptures  had  suddenly  appeared  in  the 
schools  ;  and  you  cannot  persuade  the  Hindoos  that  those 
holy  books  have  appeared  there  without  the  concurrence  and 
the  secret  sanction  of  the  Government."  Systematic  female 
education,  again,  had  been  commanded — a  most  unwise 
step,  considering  "  the  peculiar  ideas  entertained  by  Hindoos 
with  regard  to  women."  But  two  acts  had  even  more  con- 
tributed to  the  ferment  of  native  feeling.  The  first,  that  no 
man  who  changed  his  religion  should  be  deprived  of  his 
inheritance.  That  struck  at  the  main  purpose  of  property  in 
India,  which  consists  in  being  a  sacred  trust  for  religious 
objects.  The  second,  that  a  Hindoo  widow  might  marry 
again,  "  which  is  looked  upon  by  all  as  an  outrage  on  their 
faith,"  uncalled  for,  and  fraught  with  alarm. 

But  the  main  blunder  had  been  the  annexation  of  Oude 
without  excuse,  and  executed  in  such  a  manner  that  for  the 
first  time  the  Mahometan  princes  felt  that  they  had  an 
identity  of  interest  with  the  Indian  rajahs.  "...  You  see 
how  the  plot  thickens.  .  .  .  Men  of  different  races  and  different 
religions  .  .  .  traditionary  feuds  and  long  and  enduring  pre- 
judices with  all  the  elements  to  produce  segregation,  become 
united— Hindoos,  Mahrattas,  Mahommedans— secretly  feeling 
a  common  interest  and  a  common  cause."  Princes  and  pro- 
prietors are  against  you.  "  Estates  as  well  as  musnuds  are  in 
danger.  You  have  an  active  society  spread  all  over  India, 
alarming  the  ryot,  the  peasant,  respecting  his  religious  faith. 
Never  mind  on  this  head  what  were  your  intentions ;  the 
qjiestion  is,  what  zvere  their  thoughts — what  their  inferences  ?  " 
And  a  further  aggravation  had  resulted.  The  Oude  sepoy, 
who  was  a  yeoman,  had  recruited  the  Bengal  army.  "  Robbed 
of  his  country  and  deprived  of  his  privileges,  he  schemed 
and  plotted,  and  sent   mysterious   symbols   from  village  to 


220  DISRAEIJ 

village,  which  prepared  the  native  mind,"  agitated  by  princes 
deposed,  religion  insulted,  soldiery  discontented,  for  an 
occasion  and  pretext  "  to  overthow  the  British  yoke."  "  The 
Miitifij  was  no  more  a  sudden  impulse,  than  the  income  tax 
was  a  sudden  impulse.  It  was  the  result  of  careful  combinations, 
vigilant  and  zuell-organised,  on  the  watch  for  opportunity.  .  .  . 
I  will  not  go  into  the  question  of  the  new  cartridges.  ...  I 
do  not  suppose  any  one  .  .  .  will  believe  that  because  the 
cartridges  were  believed  to  be,  or  were  pretended  to  be 
believed  to  be,  greased  with  pig's  or  cow's  fat,  that  was  the 
cause  of  this  insurrection.  The  decline  and  fall  of  empires 
are  not  affairs  of  greased  cartridges.  Such  results  are  occasioned 
by  adequate  causes  and  by  an  accumulation  of  adequate  causes." 

And  now  what  remedies  would  meet  such  emergencies  ? 
Force,  it  was  agreed,  must  now  be  employed.  The  force 
proposed  was  inadequate.  "  There  should  be  an  advance  from 
Calcutta  through  Bengal,  and  an  expedition  up  the  Indus. 
The  Militia  should  be  called  out.  An  Empire,  not  a  Cabinet, 
was  in  danger." 

"...  But  to  my  mind  that  is  not  all  that  we  ought  to 
look  to.  Even  if  we  do  vindicate  our  authority  with  complete 
success — revenge  the  insults  that  we  have  received,  rebuild 
the  power  that  has  been  destroyed  .  .  .  although  we  will 
assert  with  the  highest  hand  our  authority,  although  we  will 
not  rest  until  our  unquestioned  supremacy  and  predominance 
are  acknowledged,  .  .  .  it  is  not  merely  as  avengers  that  we 
appear.  /  think  that  the  great  body  of  the  population  of  that 
countiy  otight  to  knoiv  that  there  is  for  them  a  future  of  hope. 
I  thitik  we  ought  to  temper  justice  with  mercy— justice  the  most 
severe  with  mercy  the  most  indulgent.  .  .  .  Neither  internal 
nor  external  peace  can  in  India,"  he  urged,  "be  secured  by 
British  troops  alone.  There  miist  be  no  more  annexation,  no 
more  conquest.  ...  It  is  totally  impossible  that  you  can 
ever  govern  150,000,000  of  men  in  India  by  merely  European 
agency.  You  must  meet  that  difficulty  boldly  and  completely. 
.  .  .  You  ought  at  once  .  .  .  to  tell  the  people  of  India  that 
the  relation  between  them  and  their  real  ruler  and  sovereign, 
Queen  Victoria,  shall  be  drawn  nearer.  You  must  act  upon 
the  opinion  of  India  on  that  subject  immediately  ;  and  you 


INDIA  221 

can  only  act  upon  the  opinion  of  Eastern  nations  through  their 
tmagi?iation.  You  ought  to  have  a  Royal  Commission  sent  by 
the  Queen  from  this  country  to  India  immediately,  to  inquire 
into  the  grievances  of  the  various  classes  of  that  population. 
You  ought  to  issue  a  royal  proclamation  to  the  people  of 
India,  declaring  that  the  Queen  of  England  is  not  a  sovereign 
who  will  countenance  the  violation  of  treaties  .  .  .  that  she 
.  .  .  will  respect  their  laws,  their  usages,  their  customs,  and, 
above  all,  their  religion.  Do  this,  and  do  this  not  in  a  corner, 
but  in  a  mode  and  manner  which  will  attract  universal  attention, 
and  excite  the  general  hope  of  Hindostan  in  the  Queen's  name 
and  with  the  Queen's  authority.  If  that  be  done,  simultaneously 
with  the  arrival  of  your  forces,  you  may  depend  upon  it  that 
your  military  advance  will  be  facilitated,  and,  I  believe,  your 
ultimate  success  insured." 

I  have  abstracted  this  significant  speech,  which  took  three 
hours  to  deliver,  because  it  shows  how  his  mind  grasped  such 
situations,  and  how  his  imagination  played  all  around  them. 
In  the  same  way,  in  1856,  he  deprecated  the  violent  inter- 
ference of  Sir  J.  Bowring  (a  former  secretary  of  the  Peace 
Society)  with  the  Chinese,  and  insisted  that  they  were  "the 
nation  of  etiquette,"  and  were  not  to  be  coerced  by  "  a  brutal 
freedom  of  manners."  "  If  you  are  not,"  he  then  prophetically 
protested,  "  cautious  and  careful  of  your  conduct  now  in  deal- 
ing with  China,  you  will  find  that  you  are  likely  not  to  extend 
commerce,  but  to  excite  the  jealousy  of  powerful  states,  and  to 
involve  yourselves  in  hostilities  with  nations  not  inferior  to 
yourselves.  ..." 

Such  were  the  ideas  that  prompted  the  stroke  of  the  Suez 
Canal  shares,  and  his  dramatic   summoning  of  the  Indian 
troops  to  Malta  when  Russia  was  before  the  citadel  of  the 
Levant,  and  India  had  to  be  impressed  ;  that  prompted,  too, ' 
his  proclamation  of  the  Queen  as  Empress  of  India  ;  and  | 
his  choice  of  the   late   Lord   Lytton    as   a  poet   suited   for  i 
Indian  Viceroyalty  ;   these  ideas,  that  made   him  announce, ; 
shortly  before  he  died,  that  "  London  "  was  "  the  key  of  India."  \ 

In  this  context  I  must  dwell  too  for  a  moment  on  what  I 
have  already  hinted  concerning  the  temper  of  his  diplomacy. 
Already,  in  i860,  he  had  recognised  the  full  changes  imposed 


222  DISRAELI 

by  the  spirit  of  the  age.  "...  In  the  old  days,"  he  observed, 
"  diplomacy  was  conducted  in  a  secret  fashion,  whilst  now  we 
had  '  a  candid  foreign  policy.'  What  in  former  times  .  .  . 
would  have  been  a  soliloquy  in  Downing  Street,  now  becomes 
a  speech  in  the  House  of  Commons."  But  that  was  no 
pretext,  he  also  always  asserted,  as  I  shall  again  have  to 
notice,  for  roughness  and  offence,  for  a  high  voice  and  a  low 
hand  ;  still  less  for  playing  censor,  lecturer,  or  hector  at 
once.  Above  all,  he  abominated  the  diplomacy  which 
encourages  by  words  and  disappoints  by  deeds — the  diplomacy 
that  in  1864  promised  defence  to  Denmark  and  then  denied 
her  even  encouragement.  Speaking  then,  Disraeli  said : 
"...  We  will  not  threaten,  and  then  refuse  to  act ;  we  will 
not  lure  on  our  allies  with  expectations  we  do  not  mean  to 
fulfil.  And,  sir,  if  ever  it  be  the  lot  of  myself  or  any  public  men 
ivith  ivhom  I  have  the  honour  to  act,  to  carry  on  important 
negotiations  on  behalf  of  this  country  .  .  .  I  trust  that  we  at 
least  shall  not  carry  them  on  in  such  a  manner  that  it  will  be 
our  duty  to  come  to  Parliament  to  announce  to  the  country  that 
ive  have  no  allies,  and  then  declare  that  England  can  never  act 
alone"  In  diplomacy,  moreover,  he  laid  great  stress — as  is 
witnessed  by  a  striking  passage  in  Endymion — on  the  need 
for  a  minister's  personal  acquaintance  with  the  chief  actors 
on  the  foreign  stage,  and  with  the  temper  of  the  people 
whose  fortunes  are  in  their  hands.^ 

All  these  governing  issues  underlay  his  great  Berlin 
Treaty.  Its  first  principle  was  to  uphold  the  effective  in- 
dependence of  Turkey.  Several  absurdities  have  been  alleged 
on  this  head.  It  was  also  bruited  for  political  ends  that,  as 
a  Semite,^  he  fostered  the  Moslem,  whom,  as  a  Briton,  he 
should  have  suppressed. 

1  ".  .  .  Do  you  think  a  man  like  that,  called  upon  to  deal  with 
a  Metternich  or  a  Pozzo,  has  no  advantage  over  an  individual  who  never 
leaves  his  chair  in  Downing  Street  except  to  kill  grouse?  Pah! 
Metternich  and  Pozzo  know  very  well  that  Lord  Roehampton  knows 
them.  .  .  ."  "  Roehampton  "  is  Palmerston.  The  prophecy  of  the  Congress 
repeats  one  in  Contarmi. 

^  Of  the  many  passages  that  may  be  read  in  this  connection,  in- 
cluding that  fine  ironical  one  of  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  in  Tancred^ 
paralleled  by  that  about  "  Moses  Lump  "  in  Heine,  and  the  telling  chapter 


TURKEY   AND   RUSSIA  223 

This  is  not  only  untrue,  but  inaccurate.  It  is  the  sort  of 
mistake  adopted  by  such  as  imagine  Mahomet  to  have  been 
a  Turk.  Disraeli  had  early  in  life  travelled  far  into  the  East, 
had  been  present  at  Yanina  during  an  insurrection,  had  known 
leading  pachas  (one  of  whom  consulted  him),  and  observed 
inner  intrigues.  But  while  the  Moslem  soldier  and  peasant 
always  impressed  him,  he  detested  the  system  of  the  Sultan. 
An  early  passage  records  this  detestation.  Pondering,  in 
Contariiii  Fleming,  the  failure  of  successive  Governments  to 
rid  Asia  of  "  the  revelations  of  the  son  of  Abdallah,"  he  calls 
its  whole  object  one  "to  convert  man  into  a  fanatic  slave." 
His  two  earlier  romances,  Alroy  2,vs.di  Iskander,  both  glow  with 
this  theme — rebellion  against  Islam.  The  picturesqueness, 
both  in  scenery  and  history,  of  all  Mediterranean  countries,^ 
fascinated  him  ;  so  did  the  charm  of  the  East,  which,  as  a 
stripling,  he  defined  as  "repose."  But  it  was  the  habitation 
of  the  Turk,  not  the  Turk,  that  exercised  the  spell.  "  Live 
a  little  longer  in  these  countries  before  you  hazard  an  opinion 
as  to  their  conduct,"  says  one  of  his  characters.     "  Do  you 

in  the  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentznck,  I  will  only  cite  one  less  familiar  from 
Alroy :  "...  All  was  silent :  alone  the  Hebrew  prince  stood,  amid 
the  regal  creation  of  the  Macedonian  captains.  Empires  and  dynasties 
flourish  and  pass  away ;  the  proud  metropolis  becomes  a  solitude,  the 
conquering  kingdom  even  a  desert ;  but  Israel  still  remains,  still  a 
descendant  of  the  most  ancient  kings  breathed  amid  these  royal  ruins, 
and  still  the  eternal  sun  could  never  arise  without  gilding  the  towers  of 
living  Jerusalem."  This  (with  its  after-irony  of  "  Alroy's  "  seizure  by  the 
Kourdish  bandits)  may  be  compared  with  the  satire  in  which  Disraeli 
encountered  Mr.  Newdegate's  appeals  to  "prophecy:"  "...  They 
have  survived  the  Pharaohs,  they  have  survived  the  C^sars,  they  have 
survived  the  Antonines  and  the  Seleucidae,  and  I  think  they  will  survive 
the  arguments  of  the  right  honourable  member.  .  .  ."  Mr.  Morley  tells 
that  Mr.  Gladstone  said  that  Disraeli  asserted  that  only  those  nations 
that  behaved  well  to  the  Jews  prospered.  Disraeli,  in  saying  so,  however, 
only  repeated  a  dictum  of  Frederick  the  Great. 

^  "  Say  what  they  like,"  so  "  Herbert"  in  Venetia,  "there  is  a  spell  in 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea  which  no  others  can  rival.  Never 
was  such  a  union  of  natural  loveliness  and  magical  associations  !  On 
these  shores  have  risen  all  that  interests  us  in  the  past — Egypt  and 
Palestine,  Greece,  Rome,  and  Carthage,  Moorish  Spain  and  feudal  Italy. 
These  shores  have  yielded  us  our  religion,  our  arts,  our  literature,  and 
our  laws.  If  all  that  we  have  gained  from  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean 
was  erased  from  the  memory  of  man,  we  should  be  savages." 


224  DISRAELI 

indeed  think  that  the  rebel  beys  of  Albania  were  so  simple  ? 
.  .  .  The  practice  of  politics  in  the  East  may  be  described  by 
one  word,  dissimulation  .  .  ." 

An  adverse  opinion  also  characterises  his  letters  from 
the  East,  some  of  which  are  embodied  in  his  books.  Alroy, 
dedicated  to  Jerusalem,  as  Iskander  ^  is  to  Athens,  are  neither 
of  them  favourable  to  Turkey.  And  even  the  Turkish  want 
of  humour  annoyed  him.  "  I  never  offered  an  opinion  till 
I  was  sixty,"  says  the  old  Turk  in  the  last  romance,  "  and 
then  it  was  one  which  had  been  in  our  family  for  a  century." 
He  detested  fanatics  as  he  detested  bores,  but  he  loved 
purpose  ;  and  the  sole  thing  that  recommended  the  Turk  to 
him  was  that,  though  a  fanatic  and  a  bore,  he  was  both  for  a 
purpose.  Moreover,  up  to  1 840  the  Greeks  were  more  favour- 
able to  the  Jews  than  the  Turks  ;  and  it  can  scarcely  be 
contended  that  his  attitude  to  the  Afghans — who  are  Semite 
by  race — was  prejudiced  by  the  fact.  No ;  if  we  seek  for 
a  Semitic  affinity  in  Disraeli  outside  that  to  Israel,  we  must 
find  it  in  that  to  the  Saracens  of  Spain. 

But  neither  is  the  stricture  of  his  principle  valid.  As 
is  well  known,  in  upholding  the  independence  of  Turkey,  he 
was  following  in  the  steps  of  his  predecessors  and  indorsing 
the  known  views  of  two  skilled  diplomatists.  Sir  Robert 
Morier  and  Sir  Henry  Layard,  whose  political  tenets  were 
opposite  to  Disraeli's.  He  had  long  before  made  up  his 
mind  on  this  subject,  and  had  defined  Turkey  as  a  "  barrier  " 
against  aggression.  In  a  speech  towards  the  close  of  the 
Crimean  War — "  the  Coalition  War  " — a  speech  in  which  he 
blamed  the  Government  for  their  treatment  of  Russia,  and 
considered  Russia's  "  preponderance "  towards  Turkey,  he 
observed :  "...  I  believe  that  there  are  elements,  when 
Turkey  shall  be  more  fairly  treated — and  never  has  any 
country  been  more  unfairly  treated  than  Turkey,  especially 
within  the  last  two  years — for  securing  the  independence  of 
her  empire,  and  (what  is  to  us  of  vital  interest)  preventing 
Constantinople  from  becoming  an  appanage  to  any  great 
military  power." 

By  a  tripartite  treaty  we,  conjointly  with  Russia,  Austria, 
^         Mt  was  translated  into  Greek,  as  Alroy  was  into  Hebrew. 


TURKEY  AND   RUSSIA  225 

and  France,  were  allies  bound  to  maintain  the  territorial 
integrity  of  Turkey — that  is,  whatever  dispositions  might  be 
made,  she  must  retain  a  compact  and  self-inclosed  dominion. 
And  why  had  this  become  a  necessity  for  England,  which 
is  an  Eastern  as  well  as  a  Western  power  ?  There  was  a 
double  cause — our  Indian  Empire  and  our  Mediterranean 
trade  ;  it  was  in  the  interest  of  both  that  a  comparatively 
weak  power  should  occupy  the  very  key  of  the  position  . 
— an  historical  capital  whose  very  name  symbolises  empire, 
and  whose  situation,  facing  both  east  and  west,  dominates 
the  Levant  and  commands  the  high-road  of  the  Orient. 
As  between  Greece  and  Russia,  the  first  undoubtedly  pos- 
sesses the  claims  of  race  and  inheritance.  The  second  is  an 
interloper,  and  her  "  Greekness  "  springs  from  ecclesiastical 
and  political  usurpation.  The  Greek  Macedonians  are  more 
hostile  to  Russia  than  to  Turkey,  Before  now  the  Greeks 
have  expressed  their  gratitude  that  Disraeli  saved  them  from 
being  sucked  into  a  huge  Bulgaria.  It  was  in  the  interest  of 
European  peace  that  Constantinople  should  not  be  in  the 
hands  of  a  power  so  small,  so  restive,  so  motley,  so  fluid  as 
Greece.  It  was  in  the  interest  of  India  that  the  Moslem 
pope  should  be  upheld.  It  was  in  the  interest,  moreover,  of 
the  Christian  subjects  of  the  Porte  themselves  that  Turkey 
should  be  so  tied  and  so  pledged  to  the  great  military  and 
maritime  powers  in  concert,  that  they  could  exact  real 
guarantees  for  their  protection,  should  brutal  misbehaviour 
re-arise,  and  that  the  work  of  humanity  should  be  left  to  none 
of  these  powers  apart,  and  exposed  to  the  temptation  of 
indulging  separate  ambitions  and  disturbing  the  peace  of  the 
world.  If  united  selfishness  has  deterred  them  from  doing 
their  duty,  that  must  not  be  laid  to  the  treaty's  charge. 
"Those,"  he  said,  in  1876,  "who  suppose  that  England  ever 
would  uphold,  or  at  this  moment  particularly  is  upholding, 
Turkey  from  blind  superstition  and  from  a  want  of  sympathy 
with  the  highest  aspirations  of  humanity,  are  deceived.  What 
our  duty  is  at  this  critical  moment  is  to  maintain  the  Empire 
of  England  ; "  and  before  the  Congress,  he  again  solemnly 
pointed  out  that  worse,  more  widespread,  and  far  more  lasting 
agonies  would  be  caused  to  myriads  abroad  if  the  misguided 
Q 


226  DISRAELI 

excitement  of  several  sections  at  home  were  to  prevail,  than 
even  by  any  horrors  which  must  move  both  indignation  and 
sympathy  in  every  heart. 

Into  the  detailed  controversies  of  the  "  Bulgarian  atrocities  " 
agitation  I  will  not  here  enter.  It  is  now  generally  confessed 
that  Disraeli  was  right  not  to  be  led  away  by  the  sensational 
exaggerations  manufactured  for  Russian  purposes  abroad,  and 
retailed,  sometimes,  for  political  purposes  at  home.  Horrible 
savageries,  of  course,  happened  on  both  sides  in  such  a  war, 
and  those  horrors,  from  the  nature  of  their  theatre,  were 
Oriental.  But  that  they  were  bound  up  with  racial  feuds, 
and  were  in  full  evidence  on  the  other  side,  was  vouched 
for  to  me — and  in  great  detail — some  ten  years  after  their 
occurrence,  by  Sir  William  White,  then  Ambassador  at  Con- 
stantinople, and  by  the  then  consul,  himself  a  leading  member 
of  the  committee  for  their  investigation.  These  authorities 
went  much  further  in  their  declarations  than  ever  Disraeli 
did,  with  his  extreme  reticence  in  public.  Indeed,  they  told 
me  that  the  whole  source  of  the  war  had  been  engineered  by 
the  acute  irritations  of  Russian  diplomacy,  which,  as  Lord 
Derby  long  ago  expressed  it,  "  has  never  proceeded  by  storm, 
but  by  sap  and  mine." 

The  true  facts  should  not  be  blinked.  With  regard  to 
Turkey  in  Europe  they  are  both  racial,  political,  and  ecclesias- 
tical. The  race  aspect  was  powerful  with  Disraeli.  He 
always  believed  it  to  be  "  the  key  of  history,  and  the  surest 
clue  to  the  characters  of  men  in  all  ages,"  In  England  he 
discerned  the  blend  of"  Saxon  industry  and  Norman  manners." 
While  it  was  race  again  that  had  made  national  institutions 
"  the  ramparts  of  the  multitude  against  large  estates  exercis- 
ing political  power  derived  from  a  limited  class."  Practically, 
it  is  still  a  question  of  the  Slav  against  both  Greeks  (whom 
they  have  murdered)  and  Albanians,  who  themselves  massacre 
the  Serbs.  Politically,  it  is  a  question  of  Russian  influence 
and  both  Austrian  and  Italian  jealousy.  Ecclesiastically,  it 
is  a  question  of  the  freed  principalities  against  the  Patriarch 
of  Constantinople ;  who,  since  the  very  time  when  Russia  first 
newly  pretended  to  the  Byzantine  inheritance  of  the  Greeks,  be- 
came (oddly  enough)  a  nominee  of  the  Sultan.    From  the  outset 


TUKKF.Y  AND   RUSSIA  227 

Disraeli  determined  to  undo  that  larger  Bulgaria,  stretching 
to  the  ^gean,  involving  all  the  international  conflicts  just 
hinted,  and  ranging  from  the  Danube  to  Salonica,  which 
Russia  proposed  by  the  clandestine  Treaty  of  San  Stefano. 
As  is  familiar,  he  founded  a  smaller  Bulgaria,  barriered  by  the 
Balkans,  dividing  it  into  two  portions — Bulgaria  and  Eastern 
Roumelia — in  the  last  of  which  he  implanted  autonomy.  It 
has  often  been  said  that  the  sequel  proved  him  futile,  for  the 
two  slices  of  the  big  worm  have  since  been  repieced.  But  the 
events  of  1885-86  which  caused  this  reunion  were  the  gift,  not 
of  Russian  ascendency,  but  of  those  very  institutions  which 
Disraeli  created.  Again,  it  has  been  popularly  put  as  if  the 
treaty  were  not  his  own  policy  and  had  not  endured.  I  could 
most  easily  prove  the  error  of  both  these  propositions.  As 
regards  the  first,  just  as  in  the  Reform  Bill  of  1867,  the  co- 
operation of  both  parties  was  necessary  for  the  limited  achieve- 
ment of  his  views,  so  it  fared  with  the  need  for  European 
concert  in  the  Berlin  Treaty.  But  his  ideas  had  been  sketched 
out  during  the  Crimean  War,  and  the  restoration  of  that  very 
concert,  which  still  subsists,  was  a  birth  of  the  treaty.  The 
Berlin  Treaty  restored  not  only  British  prestige,  but — as  a 
foreign  statesman  remarked — Britain's  moral  influence  in  the 
councils  of  Europe.  It  was  so  hailed  in  England,  and  this, 
as  Mr.  Roebuck  acknowledged,  was  its  ground  for  enthusiastic 
national  support.  Russia  withdrew  from  Constantinople.  Both 
the  Dardanelles  and  the  Turkish  frontier  in  Europe  were 
assured.  A  Sultan,  then  beset  with  bankruptcy  and  dynastic 
troubles,  was  given  his  chance  of  heading  a  party  of  reform 
championed  by  Midhat.  Turkey  was  rendered  compact,  and 
lopped  of  mongrel  provinces,  while  she  obtained  the  port  of 
Burgos  on  the  Black  Sea  as  a  check  to  Russia.  As  regards 
Turkey  in  Asia,  Disraeli's  aim,  as  I  have  already  outlined, 
was  Indian.  Erzeroum,  Bayazid,  Alashkerd,  proved  powerful 
bufl"ers  against  Russian  predominance  ;  and  Russia  still  sways 
the  mongrel  Bessarabia  then  restored  to  her.  It  is  now  recog- 
nised that  Russia,  to  traverse  Persia,  would  encounter  a 
British  bayonet  at  every  step.  Disraeli's  great  object,  like 
Palmerston's,  was  to  prevent  Turkey  from  becoming  a  fief  to 
Russia,  and  the  Black  Sea  from  remaining  a  mere  Russian 


228  DISRAELI 

lake,  as  the  repudiation  by  Mr.  Gladstone,  in  1 871,  of  the 
clause  in  the  Treaty  of  Paris,  for  which  the  Crimean  War 
had  been  resumed,  subsequently  empowered  it  to  become. 
Turkey,  Disraeli  had  written  in  The  Press  of  May  21,  1853, 
was  "  a  necessary  evil  in  the  European  system,"  but  one  pre- 
ferable to  some  others,  and  more  likely  to  prevent  general 
anarchy  and  bloodshed.  And  he  recalled  Prince  Potemkin's 
old  inscription  on  the  gates  of  Chusan  :  "  This  is  the  road  to 
Constantinople."  The  standing  danger  was  the  interposal  of 
Russian  ambition  on  the  perpetual  plea  of  a  Christian  pro- 
tectorate— resented  by  many  of  the  Christian  provinces  them- 
selves— in  order  to  constitute  Turkey  a  Russian  province,  and 
to  spread  a  dominion  less  fanatical,  perhaps,  but  even  more 
merciless  and  repressive  in  Europe,  however  civilising  it  has 
proved  in  portions  of  Central  Asia.  His  scheme,  compassing 
autonomy  here,  independence  there,  compactness,  the  power 
to  govern  and  the  accountability  to  improve,  everywhere  was 
one  of  development.  It  held  within  it,  as  he  said,  the  seeds 
of  "  Evolution." 

How  did  Disraeli  diagnose  Russia's  legitimate  aspirations  1 
He  certainly  neither  ignored  nor  condemned  them,  but  he 
distinguished  between  aspirations  legitimate  and  illegitimate. 
Speaking  in  1871,  after  Russia  had  violated  and  Mr.  Glad- 
stone had  torn  up  the  Black  Sea  Clause,  Disraeli  criticised 
the  course  which  the  Ministry  had  pursued. 

"...  Russia  has  a  policy,  as  every  great  power  has  a 
policy,  and  she  has  as  much  right  to  have  a  policy  as  Germany 
or  England.  I  believe  the  policy  of  Russia,  taking  a  general 
view  of  it,  to  have  been  a  legitimate  policy,  though  it  may 
have  been  inevitably  a  disturbing  policy.  When  you  have  a 
great  country  in  the  centre  of  Europe,  with  an  immense 
territory,  with  a  numerous  and  yet,  as  compared  with  its 
colossal  area,  a  sparse  population,  producing  human  food  to 
any  extent,  in  addition  to  certain  most  valuable  raw  materials, 
it  is  quite  clear  that  a  people  so  situated,  practically  without 
any  seaboard,  would  never  rest  until  it  had  found  its  way  to 
the  coast,  and  could  have  a  mode  of  communicating  easily 
with  other  nations,  and  exchanging  its  products  with  them. 


TURKEY   AND   RUSSIA  229 

Well,  for  two  hundred  years  Russia  has  pursued  that  policy  ; 
it  has  been  a  legitimate,  though  disturbing  policy.  It  has  cost 
Sweden  provinces,  and  it  has  cost  Turkey  provinces.  But 
no  wise  statesman  could  help  feeling  that  it  was  a  legitimate 
policy — a  policy  which  it  was  impossible  to  resist,  and  one 
which  the  general  verdict  of  the  world  recognised — that  Russia 
should  find  Iter  way  to  the  sea-coast.  She  has  completely 
accomplished  it.  She  has  admirable  seaports  ;  she  can  com- 
municate with  every  part  of  the  world,  and  she  has  profited 
accordingly. 

"  But  at  the  end  of  the  last  century  she  advanced  a  neiv  vieiv. 
It  was  not  a  national  policy  ;  it  was  invented  by  the  then  ruler 
of  Russia — a  woman,  a  stranger,  and  an  xxsm^QX— and  that 
policy  was  that  she  must  have  the  capital  of  the  Turkish  Empire. 
That  was  not  a  legitimate,  that  was  a  disturbing  policy.  It 
was  a  policy  like  the  French  desire  to  have  the  Rhine— false  in 
principle.  She  had  no  moral  claim  to  Constantinople  ;  she 
did  not  represent  the  races  to  which  it  once  belonged ;  she  had 
no  political  necessity  to  go  there,  because  she  already  had  two 
capitals.  Therefore  it  was  not  a  legitimate  but  a  disturbing 
policy.  As  the  illegitimate  desire  of  France  to  have  the  Rhi?ze 
has  led  to  the  prostration  of  France,  so  the  illegitimate  desire 
of  Russia  to  have  Constantinople  led  to  the  prostration  of 
Russia.  .  .  ." 

The  means  used  by  Disraeli  for  preserving  the  peace  of 
Europe  and  protecting  our  Eastern  Empire  were,  in  the  rough, 
on  the  lines  I  have  tried  to  shadow.  First  of  all,  refusing  to 
allow  the  creation  of  an  unwieldy  and  anarchic  province  of 
discordant  races  which  could  not  become  a  coherent  nation, 
he  reduced  the  Bulgaria  designed  under  the  San  Stefano 
arrangement  by  two-thirds,  created  Eastern  Roumelia,  with 
a  framed  constitution,  south  of  the  Balkans,  and  yielded  the 
rest  to  Turkey.  By  this  measure  not  only  was  Bulgaria 
prevented  from  being  bulky  and  hybrid,  but  the  Macedonian 
Greeks  (preponderant  over  Slavs  and  Serbs)  were  saved  from 
absorption.  Turkey  was  delimited  in  Europe  by  the  natural 
fastnesses  of  the  Balkans — one  that  even  in  his  youth  Disraeli 
marked  as  the  real  frontier.  Turkey  was  pledged  to  reform 
her  administration,  while  the  signatories  also  guaranteed  her 


230  DISRAELI 

from  Russian  aggression.  Both  Russia  and  Turkey,  there- 
fore— and,  indeed,  all  Europe — knew  that  England  was  in 
earnest  about  her  Indian  Empire.  Turkey's  position  was 
ascertained,  so  was  Russia's.  Russia  was  propitiated  by 
Bessarabia,  Kars,  Ardahan,  and  Batoum  ;  Turkey,  gratified 
by  the  retention  of  the  great  portion  of  what  was  to  have 
been  Bulgaria's,  by  the  retention  of  Bayazid,  by  the  great 
region  of  Erzeroum,  and  of  the  valley  of  Alashkerd. 

Further,  Cyprus  fell  to  the  lot  of  England  as  a  post  "of 
arms,"  a  strategical,  a  coasting  and  a  coaling  port  of  high 
value  for  our  Indian  Empire,  commanding  as  it  does  the 
high-route  which  leads  to  the  Euphrates  Valley,  and  useful 
besides  for  Egypt.  He  had  noted  this  island  on  his  youthful 
trip  in  the  East  as  most  opportune  for  the  purpose.^ 

Disraeli's  whole  purview,  in  these  arrangements,  apart 
from  the  defence  of  Great  Britain,  was  to  ensure  a  feasible 
government  under  the  watch  of  the  European  concert.  This 
intention  is  well  expressed  by  the  late  Master  of  Balliol, 
writing  in  1877  :  "...  I  want  to  see  the  higher  civilisation  of 
Europe  combining  against  the  lower  and  offering  something 
like  a  paternal  government  to  .  .  .  the  East.  But  then  thei'C 
is  such  a  danger  of  taking  away  the  government  which  they 
have  and  substitiiting  only  chaos.  This  might  be  avoided  if 
the  European  Powers  would  jointly  take  up  their  cause.  ..." 

I  may  be  allowed  to  recall,  in  relation  to  some  of  these 
matters,  a  few  of  Disraeli's  immediate  after-utterances.  They 
are  too  often  neglected. 

As  regards  the  English  guarantee  of  the  Porte  against 
Russian  offence,  attained  by  the  Convention  of  Constanti- 
nople which  supplemented  the  treaty,  he  observed — 

"...  Suppose  now  .  .  .  the  settlement  of  Europe  had 
not  included  the  Convention  of  Constantinople  and  the 
occupation  of  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  .  .  .  what  might  .  .  .  have 
occurred  ?  In  ten,  fifteen,  or  twenty  years,  the  power  and 
resources  of  Russia  having  revived,  some  quarrel  would  again 
have  occurred,  Bulgarian  or  otherwise,  and  in  all  probability 
the  armies  of  Russia  would  have  been  assailing  the  Ottoman 

^  He  mentions  it  both  in  his  Home  Letters  and  in  Tancred  as  to  be 
acquired  by  England. 


TURKEY   AND   RUSSIA  231 

dominions,  both  in  Europe  and  Asia ;  and  enveloping  and 
inclosing  the  city  of  Constantinople,  and  its  all-powerful 
position.  Well,  what  would  be  the  probable  conduct  under 
these  circumstances  of  the  Government  .  .  .  whatever  party 
might  be  in  power  ?  /  fear  there  might  be  hesitation  for  a 
time — a  want  of  decision,  a  want  of  firmness  ;  but  no  one  doubts 
that  ultimately  England  would  have  said,  *  This  will  never 
do  ;  we  must  prevent  the  conquest  of  Asia  Minor;  we  must 
interfere  in  this  matter  and  arrest  the  course  of  Russia.  .  .  .' 
Well,  then,  that  being  the  case,  I  say  it  is  extremely  important 
that  this  country  should  take  a  step  beforehand  which  should 
indicate  what  the  policy  of  England  would  be.  .  .  .  The 
responsibilities  of  England  are  practically  diminished  by 
the  course  we  have  taken.  .  .  .  One  of  the  results  of  my 
attending  the  Congress  of  Berlin  has  been  to  prove,  what  I 
always  suspected  to  be  an  absolute  fact,  that  neither  the 
Crimean,  nor  this  horrible  devastating  war  which  has  just 
terminated,  would  have  taken  place  if  England  had  spoken 
with  the  necessary  firmness.  Russia  had  complaints  to  make 
against  this  country  ;  that  neither  in  the  case  of  the  Crimean 
War,  nor  on  this  occasion — and  I  don't  shrink  from  my  share 
of  the  responsibility  in  this  matter — was  the  voice  of  England 
so  clear  and  decided  as  to  exercise  a  due  share  in  the  guidance 
of  European  opinion^  Without  such  finality  the  treaty  could 
only  have  been  patchwork.  "  That  was  not  the  idea  of  public 
duty  entertained  by  my  noble  friend  and  myself.  We  thought 
the  time  had  come  when  we  should  take  steps  which  would 
produce  some  order  out  of  the  anarchy  chaos  that  had  so  long 
prevailed.  We  asked  ourselves  was  it  absolutely  a  necessity 
that  the  fairest  provinces  of  the  world  should  be  the  most 
devastated  and  the  most  ill-used,  and  for  this  reason,  that 
there  is  no  security  for  life  and  property  so  long  as  that 
country  is  in  perpetual  fear  of  invasion  and  aggression.  .  ,  . 
/  hold  that  lue  have  laid  the  foundation  of  a  state  of  affairs 
which  may  open  a  new  continent  to  the  civilisation  of  Europe, 
and  that  the  welfare  of  the  world,  and  the  wealth  of  the 
world,  may  be  increased  by  availing  ourselves  of  that  tran- 
quillity and  order  which  the  more  intimate  connection  of  that 
country  with  England  will  now  produce.  ..."     And,  added 


232  DISRAELI 

the  late  Lord  Salisbury,  "  We  were  striving  to  pick  up 
the  thread — the  broken  thread — of  England's  old  imperial 
position." 

Before  this  utterance  Disraeli  had  stated  that  the  Conven- 
tion's object  was  not  only  to  confirm  "tranquillity  and  order," 
but  to  safeguard  India.  "We  have  a  substantial  interest  in 
the  East  ;  it  is  a  commanding  interest,  and  its  behest  must 
be  obeyed." — "  In  taking  Cyprus,"  he  continued,  "  the  move- 
ment is  not  Mediterranean,  it  is  Indian;"  and,  speaking  of 
Russia's  temptation  to  profit  by  a  state  of  things  which  tended 
to  resolve  the  societies  of  Asia  Minor  and  the  countries 
beyond  into  the  anarchy  of  original  elements,  he  used  the 
familiar  words :  " .  .  .  There  is  no  reason  for  these  constant 
wars,  or  fears  of  wars  between  Russia  and  England.  Before 
the  circumstances  which  led  to  the  recent  disastrous  war, 
when  none  of  those  events  which  we  have  seen  agitating  the 
world  had  occurred,  and  when  we  were  speaking  in  another 
place  of  the  conduct  of  Russia  in  Central  Asia,  /  vindicated 
that  conduct,  which  I  thought  was  unjustly  attacked,  and  I  said 
then,  what  I  repeat  now,  there  is  room  enough  for  Russia  and 
England  in  Asia.'' 

On  the  other  hand,  in  another  speech  alluding  to  Austria's 
trusteeship  of  Bosnia,  he  said  it  permitted  us  to  check, 
"...  I  should  hope  for  ever,  that  Pan-Slavist  confederacy 
and  conspiracy  which  has  already  proved  so  disadvantageous 
to  the  happiness  of  the  world."  Nobody  acquainted  with 
Austria's  desire  for  Salonica,  Italy's  dread  of  that  possi- 
bility, and  the  fear  of  one  at  any  rate  of  these  powers  lest 
Greece  should  absorb  Albania,  can  fail  to  grasp  the  relevance 
of  this  hope. 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  at  the  time  these 
deliverances   were   made  Abdul   Hamid  ^  was  not  what  he 

'  In  1878,  Disraeli,  after  emphasising  the  Sultan's  friendliness  to 
Greece  and  the  value  of  a  Graeco-Turk  entente  as  a  bar  to  "  Pan-Slavic 
monopoly,"  said  :  ".  .  .  No  prince,  probably,  that  has  ever  lived  has 
gone  through  such  a  series  of  catastrophes.  One  of  his  predecessors 
commits  suicide ;  his  immediate  predecessor  is  subject  to  a  visitation 
even  more  awful.  The  moment  he  ascends  the  throne,  his  ministers 
are  assassinated.     A  conspiracy  breaks  out  in  his  own  palace,  and  then 


TURKEY  AND   RUSSIA  233 

seems  since   to  have  become.     He  was  then — and  the   late 
Sir  William  White  was    my  informant — an   enthusiastic   re- 
former,  with    the   wise    and    accomplished    Midhat    for    his 
inspirer.     Had  he  remained  so  Turkey  would  have  achieved 
much   for  Asia  Minor.     Even  now,  Abdul  may  perhaps  be 
sometimes  excused  for  mistrusting  the  cant  of  reform  on  the 
part  of  unreforming  powers.      Perhaps  it  is  impossible  long 
to  be  Sultan  of  Turkey  without  falling  into  the  faults  bred 
by    habitual    suspicion.      Perhaps    the    varying    conduct    of 
Western  Powers  conduces  to  cynicism.     But  at  this  period 
the  Armenians  themselves  were  hopeful.     With  the  Russian 
aspiration    I    sympathise.      Russia  is  destined  to  expansion 
and    greatness  ;   she   is  a  cold   power  desiring  to  be  warm, 
pushed  by  a  military  power  eager  to  be  forward.     But  she 
is  also  that  strange  anomaly — a  new  empire  with  a  mediaeval 
standard.     With  the   freezing  officialism  of  Russia,   giant  in 
profession  and  pigmy  in  practice,  I  entertain  no  sympathy  at 
all.     Nor   are  the  Cossack  barbarities  a  whit  less  infamous 
than   those   of  the   Bashi-Bazouks.     What   is   always  to  be 
dreaded  is  the  periodical  recurrence  of  race-hatreds  and  bar- 
barism on  the  confines  of  both  countries.     Turkey  comprises 
many  more    races    than    Russia ;    at    such   times,  therefore, 
when   bad    governors  incense    brutalised    men,  unspeakable 
horrors    eclipse    imagination     and    baffle    even    sympathy. 
Bulgarian   or    Servian   Slavs   massacre    Macedonian    Greeks, 
Albanians    butcher    Macedonian    Serbs,    and    Turks    both 
massacre  and  torture  Macedonian  Slavs.     The  name  of  the 
particular  province  inflamed  at   a   specific  time   by   revolu- 
tionary committees  is  constantly  used  as  if  designating  the 
natural  uprising   of  a  united   people  or   of  a   single   race  ; 
but  this  is  not  the  case.     The  recent  blood-orgy,  however, 
connived  at  by  more   than  one  of  the  powers,  would  seem 
to  disgrace  the  Ottoman  beyond  any  other  single  group  con- 
cerned.     And  yet  the  normal  Turk — soldier  or  peasant — is 

he  learns  that  his  kingdom  is  invaded,  .  .  .  and  that  his  enemy  is  at  his 
gates  ;  yet  with  all  these  trials,  ...  he  has  never  swerved  in  .  .  .  the 
feeling  of  a  desire  to  deal^with  Greece  in  a  spirit  of  friendship.  ...  He 
is  apparently  a  man  whose  .  .  .  impulses  are  good,  .  .  .  and  where 
impulses  are  good,  there  is  always  hope." 


234  DISRAELI 

not  naturally  brutal.  It  is  only  when  insulted  fanaticism 
dements  him  that  he  becomes  so  ;  and  his  fanaticism  seldom 
fans  the  flames  unprovoked  by  foreign  designs.  Of  course 
nothing  could  be  more  desirable  than  a  practical,  a  permanent 
untlerstanding  with  Russia  ;  nothing  more  desirable  than  a 
complete  reform  of  European  Turkey,  which  the  joint  powers 
could  enforce  if  they  would  unite.  Both  are  consummations 
devoutly  to  be  wished.  But  bearing  in  mind  the  panther 
tread  of  Russian  diplomacies,  their  recent  developments  in 
China  and  Japan,  their  constant  designs  on  India  and  in 
Persia,  their  stealthy  hankering  after  Constantinople,  their 
earlier  annexation  even  of  American  territory,  as  Disraeli 
pointed  out — is  the  former  practical  ?  By  all  means  let 
Russia  expand,  as  she  has  a  right  to  expand  ;  but  by  all 
means  let  England  ascertain  the  due  spheres  of  her  expansion, 
and  retain  her  own  empire,  that  gives  justice  and  freedom  to 
countless  races  once  oppressed.  Nor  let  any  cant  of  whatever 
nature  blind  her  eyes  to  the  hard  issues. 

Throughout  his  pronouncements  on  foreign  affairs  is  to 
be  discerned  his  construction  of  "  balance  of  power "  and  of 
"  interference."  As  regards  the  first,  his  principles  are  well 
defined  in  a  speech  of  1S64.  "...  The  proper  meaning  of 
'  balance  of  power '  is  security  for  communities  in  general 
against  a  predominant  and  particular  power."  It  also  follows 
"that  you  have  to  take  into  your  consideration  states  and 
influences  that  are  not  to  be  counted  among  the  European 
powers."  Every  crisis  in  Europe  bears  on  America  and  the 
colonies.  So  early  as  1848  he  had  pointed  out  that,  though 
insulted,  "...  yet  our  welfare  as  a  great  colonial  power  was 
so  intimately  connected  with  European  politics,  that  in  seasons 
of  crisis  we  could  only  retire  from  interference  at  the  expense 
not  only  of  our  prestige  but  of  our  safety."  The  "balance 
of  power "  principle  he  derived  from  Bolingbroke  ;  he  also 
adopted  from  Bolingbroke  his  principle  of  "  interference." 

"...  There  are  conditions,"  he  laid  it  down  in  i860, 
"  under  which  it  may  be  our  imperative  duty  to  interfere. 
We  may  clearly  interfere  ifi  the  affairs  of  foreign  countries 
wJien  the  interests  or  the  honour  of  England  are  at  stake,  or 
when,  in  our  opinion,  the  independence  of  Europe  is  menaced. 


FOREIGN   rOLICY,   FRANCE         235 

But  a  great  responsibility  devolves  upon  that  minister  who 
has  to  decide  when  those  conditions  have  arisen  ;  and  he  who 
makes  a  mistake  upon  that  subject,  he  who  involves  his 
country  in  interference  or  in  war  under  the  idea  that  the 
interests  or  honour  of  the  country  are  concerned,  when  neither 
is  substantially  involved,  he  who  involves  the  country  in 
interference  or  war  because  he  believes  the  independence  of 
Europe  is  menaced,  when,  in  fact,  it  is  not  in  danger,  makes 
of  course  a  great,  a  fatal  mistake.  The  general  principle  that 
we  ought  not  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  foreign  nations, 
nnless  there  is  a  clear  necessity,  and  that,  generally  speaking, 
it  ought  to  be  held  a  political  dogma  that  the  people  of  other 
countries  should  SETTLE  THEIR  OWN  AFFAIRS  zvithout  the 
introduction  of  foreign  inflzience  or  foreign  pozver,  is  one  ivhich 
I  trust  the  House  .  .  .  will  cordially  adhere  to.  .  .  ."  To  this 
let  me  add  a  passage  from  the  great  Denmark  speech  of 
1864.     It  is  its  corollary — 

"...  By  the  just  influence  of  England  in  the  councils 
of  Europe,  I  mean  an  influence  contradistinguished  from 
that  which  is  obtained  by  intrigue  and  secret  understanding  ; 
I  mean  an  influence  that  results  from  the  conviction  of  foreign 
powers  that  our  resources  are  great,  and  that  oicr  policy  is 
moderate  and  steadfast.  ...  I  lay  this  down  as  a  great 
principle  which  cannot  be  controverted  in  the  management 
of  our  foreign  affairs.  If  England  is  resolved  upon  a  particular 
policy,  war  is  not  probable." 

One  illustration  is  worth  many  arguments.  At  the  Berlin 
Congress  affairs  at  a  time  began  to  march  ill.  The  Russian 
plenipotentiary  was  making  mischief.  Disraeli  quietly  pencilled 
some  requisitions  on  the  part  of  England  and  forwarded  them 
to  him.     "  If  you  accept  these,"  he  said,  "  peace — if  not,  war." 

Bearing  these  two  further  principles  of  foreign  policy  in 
mind,  let  me  endeavour  to  sketch  Disraeli's  attitude  towards 
various  other  powers.  With  America  I  deal  separately  in  the 
next  chapter. 

Friendship  with  France  amounted  with  him  almost  to  a 
passion,  and  none  would  have  rejoiced  more  heartily  at  the 
amity  which  our  King  has  recently  renewed.  He  himself  knew 
the  French  well,  and  in  the  'forties  had  met  with  the  most 


236  DISRAELI 

cordial  welcome  on  two  occasions  from  the  King,  the  Court, 
the  lights  of  literature  and  science,  the  politicians  and  the 
people.  He  thought  that  with  French  alliance  other  powers 
might  exclaim  as  Shakespeare's  Constance  exclaimed — 

"  France  friends  with  England,  what  become  of  me  !  " 

France  was  the  nation  of  society,  the  nurse  of  arts  and 
manners.  England  and  France  supplied  reciprocal  wants. 
Their  friendship  is  a  pledge  for  European  peace.  Had  the 
Czar  been  made  aware  of  it  in  time,  the  blunder  and  mis- 
fortune of  the  Crimean  War  would  not  have  taken  place.  In 
Coningsby  he  called  Paris  "the  university  of  the  world,"  and 
enlarged  on  commercial  exchange  between  two  first-class 
powers  in  a  vein  at  once  light  and  serious.  In  1845,  France 
regarded  Peel  as  the  guardian  of  Anglo-French  cordiality, 
and  feared  the  chance  of  Palmerston 's  return  to  office  as 
fraught  with  a  possible  treatment  of  "  the  French  connection 
with  levity  or  disregard."  Louis  Philippe  relieved  his  anxieties 
by  consulting  Disraeli  on  this  point.^ 

"A  good  understanding,"  was  DisraeH's  interpretation  in 
1864,  "between  England  and  France  is  simply  this— that  so 
far  as  the  influence  of  these  two  great  powers  extends,  the 
affairs  of  the  world  shall  be  conducted  by  their  co-operation 
instead  of  by  their  rivalry.  But  co-operation  requires  not 
merely  identity  of  ititerest  but  reciprocal  good  feeling.  In  public 
as  zvell  as  in  private  affairs,  a  certain  degree  of  sentiment  is 
necessary  for  the  happy  conduct  of  matters."  In  another  speech 
ten  years  earlier  he  also  observed  that  Anglo-French  relations 
were  not  dynastic,  but  depended  on  commercial  interests. 

Perhaps  his  most  remarkable  expression  on  this  theme 
occurs  in  a  speech  of  1853,^  when  Sir  James  Graham  had  gone 
about  saying  that  the  Emperor  was  a  despot  who  turned  his 
people  into  slaves,  and  when  there  was  one  of  those  periodical 
outbursts  of  Gallophobia  to  which  we  are  accustomed.  Disraeli 
pointed  out  that  peace  with  France  had  then  subsisted  for 
forty    years,    that    social    relations   had    multiplied,   that   an 

1  Cf.  his  Life  of  Lord  George  Beniinck,  p.  170. 

2  This  was  the  speech  in  which  Disraeh  styled  himself  as  not  only  a 
devoted  parliamentarian,  but  "  a  gentleman  of  the  Press." 


FRANCE  237 

identity  of  interest  in  high  policy  existed.  He  exploded  the 
fallacy  that  national  hostility  was  a  true  tradition.  Even 
Agincourt  and  Crecy  stood  for  a  struggle  between  two 
princes  rather  than  between  two  nations.  "...  No  one  can 
deny  that  both  Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  Lord  Protector 
looked  to  that  alliance  as  the  basis  of  their  foreign  connections. 
No  one  can  deny  that  there  was  one  subject  on  which  even 
the  brilliant  Bolingbroke  and  the  sagacious  Walpole  were 
agreed — and  that  was  the  great  importance  of  cultivating  an 
alliance,  or  good  understanding,  with  France.  At  a  later  date 
the  most  eminent  of  the  statesmen  of  this  century,  Mr. 
Pitt,  formed  his  system  on  this  principle.  ,  .  ."  The  tra- 
ditional prejudice,  therefore,  was  the  reverse  of  true.  The 
natural  tendency  was  to  concord,  for  after  the  great  European 
revolutions  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  and  dawn  of  the 
nineteenth  centuries,  a  durable  peace  had  emerged.  Nor 
were  the  defences  (which  Sir  Robert  Peel  had  really 
inaugurated)  due  to  the  rise  of  the  Third  Napoleon  ;  they 
were  due  to  the  changes  in  scientific  warfare.  It  was  true 
that  in  France  there  was  then  a  military  government.  "  But 
there  is  a  great  error  also,  if  history  is  to  guide  us,  in 
assuming  that  because  a  country  is  governed  by  an  army, 
that  army  must  be  extremely  anxious  to  conquer  other 
countries."  The  lust  for  conquest  under  militarism  is  due  to 
home-uneasiness,  and  from  a  feeling  in  the  army  that  its 
power  is  not  felt.  The  real  prejudice  was  that  France  had 
subverted  her  constitution.  This  prejudice  had  foundation, 
but  it  was  the  very  cause  of  those  acts  which  indiscreet 
journalism  was  now  criticising  so  angrily.  "  Some  years 
ago,"  he  resumed  (and  the  glimpse  of  Louis  Philippe  is 
interesting),  "  I  had  occasion  frequently  to  visit  France.  I 
found  that  country  then  under  the  mild  sway  of  a  constitu- 
tional monarch — of  a  prince  who,  from  temper  as  well  as 
policy,  was  humane  and  beneficent.  I  know  that  at  that  time 
the  Press  was  free.  I  know  that  at  that  time  the  Parliament 
of  France  was  .  .  .  distinguished  by  its  eloquence,  and  by 
a  dialectic  power  that  probably  even  our  own  House  of 
Commons  has  never  surpassed.  I  know  that  under  these 
circumstances  France  arrived  at  a  pitch  of  material  prosperity 


23S  DISRAELI 

which  it  had  never  before  reached.  I  know  also  that  after  a 
reign  of  unbroken  prosperity  of  long  duration,  when  he  was 
aged,  when  he  was  in  sorrow,  and  when  he  was  suffering 
under  overwhelming  indisposition,  this  same  prince  was  rudely 
expelled  from  his  capital,^  and  was  denounced  as  a  poltroon 
by  all  the  journals  of  England,  because  he  did  not  command 
his  troops  to  fire  upon  the  people.  Well,  other  powers  and  other 
princes  have  since  occupied  his  seat,  who  have  asserted  their 
authority  in  a  very  different  way,  and  are  denounced  in  the 
same  organs  as  tyrants  because  they  did  order  their  troops  to 
fire  upon  the  people.  I  think  every  man  has  a  right  to  have 
his  feelings  upon  these  subjects  ;  but  what  is  the  moral  I 
presume  to  draw  upon  these  circumstances  ?  It  is  this,  that  it 
is  extremely  difficult  to  form  an  opinion  upon  French  politics  ; 
and  that  so  long  as  the  French  people  are  exact  in  their  commercial 
transactions  and  friendly  in  their  political  relations,  it  is  Just  as 
well  that  ive  should  not  interfere  zvith  their  management  of  their 
domestic  concerns^ 

The  same  ideas  animated  him  in  1854,  when  he  pointed 
out  that  ten  years  earlier  the  Czar  had,  by  a  secret  manoeuvre, 
sought  to  provoke  an  estrangement  which  had  not  endured,  but 
which  the  Czar  was  led  to  believe  enduring  when  the  Crimean 
War  broke  out.  The  same  guided  his  hearty  approval  of  Mr. 
Cobden's  aims  in  relation  to  France.  What  he  objected  to  in 
the  later  Italian  Treaty  was  that  it  embodied  "  reciprocity  "  too 
late — at  a  time  when  for  England  reciprocity  could  secure  no 
more.  In  1858 — the  Walewski  affair — Disraeli  termed  our 
alliance  with  France  "  the  key  and  corner-stone  of  modern 
civilisation."  After  the  Treaty  of  Villafranca,  Disraeli  advised 
England  not  "to  go  to  congresses  and  conferences  in  fine 
dresses  and  ribands,  to  enjoy  the  petty  vanity  of  settling  the 
fate  of  petty  princes,"  but  to  have  recourse  to  "your  ally 
the  Emperor  of  the  French  " — a  monarch  who,  as  Disraeli 
said  some  years  afterwards,  "...  has  been  created  and  can 
only  be  maintained  by  the  sympathies  of  his  people — a  proud, 

*  Disraeli  always  maintained  that  the  expulsion  of  Louis  Philippe  was 
the  act  of  the  secret  societies,  and  not  that  of  the  French  nation.  He 
had  reason  to  know.  His  letters  in  1848  are  full  of  gloom  regarding  the 
outlook  in  Europe.     So  were  Carlyle's. 


FRANCE  239 

imperious,  and  apt  to  be  discontented  people."  In  i860, 
when  many  were  jubilant  over  Italy's  united  nationality, 
Disraeli,  demonstrating  its  present  incompleteness,  asserted 
that  its  accomplishment  must  come  not  through  the  "  moral 
influence  of  England,"  but  "by  the  will  and  the  sword  of 
France"  —  though  this  did  not  blind  him  to  contingent 
perils. 

"  It  is  the  will  of  France  that  can  alone  restore  Rome  to 
the  Italians.  It  is  the  sword  of  France,  if  any  sword  can  do 
it,  that  alone  can  free  Venetia  from  the  Austrians."  But  in 
a  long  and  splendid  speech  he  urged,  almost  prophetically, 
that  by  forcing  the  French  Emperor  to  a  policy  which  he 
was  unwilling  to  pursue,  we  should  eventually  give  him  a 
dangerous  preponderance  :  "...  It  will  be  in  his  power  .  .  . 
to  make  those  greater  changes  and  aim  at  those  greater  results 
which  I  will  only  i^ttimate  and  not  attempt  to  describe."  In 
1864,  on  the  Danish  crisis,  advocating  firmness  of  action 
following  on  firmness  of  statement,  he  once  more  repeated  : 
"...  If  there  is,  under  these  circumstances,  a  cordial  alliance 
between  England  and  France,  war  is  most  difficult ;  but  if 
there  is  a  thorough  understanding  between  England,  France, 
and  Russia,  war  is  impossible."  Though  here,  again,  this 
consideration  would  not  deter  him  from  the  single  object  of 
England's  welfare. 

Finally,  he  consulted  French  sentiment  in  the  delicate 
arrangement  at  Berlin.  "...  There  is  no  step  of  this  kind 
that  I  would  take  without  considering  the  effect  it  might  have 
upon  the  feelings  of  France — a  nation  to  whom  we  are  bound 
by  almost  every  tie  that  can  unite  a  people.  .  .  .  We  avoided 
Egypt,  knowing  how  susceptible  France  is  with  regard  to 
Egypt ;  we  avoided  Syria ;  .  .  .  and  we  avoided  availing 
ourselves  of  any  part  of  the  terra  firma,  because  we  would 
not  hurt  the  feelings  or  excite  the  suspicions  of  France.  .  .  . 
But  the  interests  of  France  .  .  .  are,  as  she  acknowledges, 
sentimental  and  traditionary  interests  ;  and  although  I  respect 
them,  ...  we  must  remember  that  our  connection  with  the 
East  is  not  merely  an  affair  of  sentiment  and  tradition,  but 
that  we  have  urgent  and  substantial  and  enormous  interests 
which  we  must  guard  and  keep." 


240  DISRAELI 

I  pass  now  to  Germany.  Trussia,  in  his  early  days,  he 
had  described  as  "  the  Persia  "  of  Europe  ;  the  Austrians  as 
"  the  Chinese."  Some  thirty  years  before  Germany  became 
united,  and  Bismarck  had  brandished  the  mailed  fist,  Disraeli 
regarded  much  in  the  air  as  "  dreamy  and  dangerous  non- 
sense ; "  he  considered  theory  and  "  inner  consciousness  "  as 
distinctive  of  the  German  nature,  and  he  failed  to  perceive 
the  rising  wave  of  its  instinct  for  united  nationality.  Here 
certainly  his  foresight  flagged.  When  Prussia  dismembered 
Denmark,  he  pointed  out  that  by  the  arguments  used  she,  too, 
might  be  deprived  of  Posen.  Here  certainly  his  foresight 
failed.  But  when  the  great  war  broke  out,  he  rose  to  the 
occasion  and  realised  its  meaning  to  the  full.  "It  is  no 
common  war,"  he  said  at  the  onset,  "  like  that  between  Prussia 
and  Austria,  or  like  the  Italian  war  in  which  France  was 
engaged  some  years  ago  ;  nor  is  it  like  the  Crimean  War. 
This  war  represents  the  German  revolution,  a  greater  political 
event  than  the  French  Revolution  of  last  century.  I  don't  say 
a  greater  or  as  great  a  social  event.  What  its  social  conse- 
quences may  be  are  in  the  future.  Not  a  single  principle, 
accepted  by  all  statesmen  for  guidance  in  the  management 
of  our  foreign  affairs  up  to  six  months  ago,  any  longer  exists. 
There  is  not  a  diplomatic  tradition  that  has  not  been  swept 
away.  You  have  a  new  world,  new  influences  at  work,  new 
and  unknown  objects  and  dangers  with  which  to  cope,  at 
present  involved  in  the  obscurity  incident  to  the  novelty  of 
such  affairs.  .  .  .  Lord  Palmerston,  eminently  a  practical  man, 
trimmed  the  ship  of  State  and  shaped  its  policy  with  a  view 
to  preserve  an  equilibrium  in  Europe.  But  what  has  come  to 
pass  ?  The  balance  of  power  has  been  entirely  destroyed, 
and  the  country  which  suffers,  and  feels  the  effects  of  this 
great  change  most,  is  England."  He  recommended  an  attitude 
of  "  armed  neutrality,"  such  as  Austria's  occupation  of  the 
Danubian  provinces,  which' certainly  abridged  the  Crimean 
War.  Such  a  policy  tends  to  prevent,  if  possible,  to  shorten 
if  it  cannot  prevent  a  conflict ;  and  when  that  conflict  is 
finished,  to  temper  the  terms  for  the  vanquished.  Had  it 
been  feasible  in  the  then  state  of  our  armaments,  it  might 
have  produced   lasting   results.     As   time  went  on   Disraeli 


GERMANY,  AUSTRIA,   ITALY        241 

grew  to  understand  Germany  better,  though  he  never  ceased 
to  regret  the  humiHation  to  France.  In  Bismarck,  however, 
he  found  a  powerful  friend,  and  one  of  his  last  utterances 
regarding  Germany  was  to  praise  her  as  a  peacemaker. 

At  the  Berlin  Congress  Lord  Beaconsfield  made  his 
speeches  in  English.  This  was  of  design.  A  story  was  told 
that  an  eminent  English  diplomatist,  in  attendance  on  his 
chief,  had  adroitly  suggested  this  course  out  of  apprehension 
that  "  Dizzy's "  French  accent  might  not  impress  foreign 
representatives.  But  however  this  may  have  been,  I  am  con- 
vinced it  was  not  the  real  reason,  which  was  to  assert  the 
leadership  of  Great  Britain. 

Disraeli's  French  was  fluent,  if  insular.  In  Italian  he 
was  naturally  proficient.  Italian  literature  was  familiar  to 
him,  and  next  to  Dante,  he  was  fondest  of  Alfieri,  a  fine 
passage  from  whom,  it  will  be  remembered,  he  quotes  in 
Lothair.     He  knew  German  well  enough  to  read  it. 

No  sentiment  surrounded  his  favour  to  Austria.  It  was 
her  partition  that  he  feared.  So  early  as  1848  he 
objected,  from  the  sole  standpoint  of  England's  interest,  to 
championing  the  Magyars  and  the  Italians  against  Austria, 
the  Sicilians  against  Naples.  We  should,  he  then  said,  "  mind 
our  own  business."  And  in  1856,  when  he  combated  the 
views  of  his  opponents  who  sighed  for  the  dismemberment 
of  Russia,  he  also  pointed  out  the  dangers  to  European  peace 
that  must  attend  the  dismemberment  of  Austria.  The  com- 
plete dismemberment  of  that  empire — partly  a  few  years 
later  to  be  accomplished — would  involve  the  independence 
of  Hungary  and  the  emancipation  of  Italy. 

With  Italy  herself  he  nourished,  indeed,  an  innate 
sympathy,  and  for  her  a  sentimental  attachment.  In  all 
his  reveries  Venice  and  Rome  figure  no  less  frequently  than 
do  Athens  and  Jerusalem  ;  and  afterwards  none  applauded 
Daniel  Manin  more  than  he.  Italy  is  the  haunting  refrain 
of  Venetia,  Venice  of  Contarini  Fleming,  Rome  romanticises 
Lothair.  Perhaps  a  leaven  of  his  old  enthusiasm  for  "a 
cluster  of  small  states "  and  "  federal  unions "  still  mingled 
with  the  practical  outlook  which  also  made  him  sacrifice 
many  of  his  personal  emotions   to  the  cold  requirements  of 


242  DISRAELI 

statesmanship.  "  Federal  unions,"  he  had  sighed  in  Contarini, 
"  would  preserve  us  from  the  consequences  of  local  jealousy." 
— "  There  would  be  more  genius,  and,  what  is  of  more 
importance,  much  more  felicity." — '^  Italy  might  then  revived 
However  this  may  be — and  I  for  one  regret  his  forced  attitude 
towards  the  first  flutter  of  Italian  freedom — or  whether  his 
late  acquaintance  with  Metternich  had  coloured  his  ideas, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  their  constraining  cause.  His  public 
views  always  confined  themselves  to  what  he  believed  was 
for  the  benefit  of  Great  Britain.  And  in  this  instance — 
"...  If  we,  or  any  other  power,"  he  urged,  "should  forcibly 
interfere  in  the  affairs  of  Italy  with  the  view  of  changing  the 
political  settlement  of  that  country,  the  result  will  be,  as  in 
the  case  of  an  attempt  to  dismember  Russia,  one  of  those 
protracted  wars  that  might  fatally  exhaust  this  country,  and 
which,  even  supposing  it  to  be  successful,  would  leave  Italy 
very  possibly  not  in  the  possession  of  Austria,  but  under 
the  dominion  of  some  other  power  as  little  national."  It 
should  be  recollected  that  1858-61  were  critical  years  for 
Anglo-French  relations.  After  Palmerston's  Orsini  imbroglio 
we  were  more  than  once  on  the  verge  of  war  with  France. 
Luckily,  England  was  never  forced  into  interference.  Luckily, 
Italy  regained  her  independence,  through  two  commanding 
individualities.  But  it  was  history  that  warned  Disraeli. 
Italy  had  been  the  battle-field  of  Austria  and  Spain,  and  a 
prolific  source  of  war,  disorder,  and  havoc  throughout  the 
eighteenth  century.  "A  war  in  Italy,"  he  said  in  1859,  "is 
not  a  war  in  a  corner.  An  Italian  war  may  by  possibility  be 
an  European  war.  The  waters  of  the  Adriatic  cannot  be  dis- 
turbed without  agitating  the  waters  of  the  Rhine.  The  port 
of  Trieste  is  not  a  mere  Italian  port.  It  is  a  port  which 
belongs  to  the  Italian  confederation,  and  an  attack  on  Trieste 
is  not  an  attack  on  Austria  alone,  but  also  on  Germany.  If 
war  springs  up  beyond  the  precincts  of  Italy,  England  has 
interests  not  merely  from  .  .  .  those  enlightened  principles  of 
civilisation  which  make  her  look  with  an  adverse  eye  on  aught 
that  would  disturb  the  peace  of  the  ivorld,  but  England  may  be 
interested  from  material  considerations  of  the  most  urgent  and 
momentous  character^    It  was  from  England's  vantage-ground 


GREECE,   POLAND  243 

alone  that  he  discussed  these  questions  in  public.  He  wished 
Italy  to  be  free,  but  he  feared  the  results  of  ineffective  feeling. 
Italy,  he  held,  must  free  herself,  and  her  aid,  if  any,  should  be 
French,  not  English,  for  France  heads  the  Latin  League.  In 
1859  he  rested  on  a  mutual  accord  and  disarmament  between 
Great  Britain  and  France.  This  would,  he  pleaded,  be  "a 
conquest  far  more  valuable  than  Lombardy,  or  those  wild 
dreams  of  a  regeneration  ever  promised  but  never  accom- 
plished." "  National  independence,"  he  urged  in  another 
speech  on  the  same  subject,  "  is  not  created  by  protocols,  nor 
public  liberty  guaranteed  by  treaties.  All  such  arrangements 
have  been  tried  before,  and  the  consequence  has  been  a  sickly 
and  short-lived  offspring.  What  is  going  on  in  Italy— never 
mind  whose  may  have  been  the  original  fault,  what  the  present 
errors — can  only  be  solved  by  the  ivill,  the  energy,  the  sentiment, 
and  the  thought  of  tlie  population  themselves" 

One  word  before  I  close  this  chapter  about  Greece  and 
Poland.  Of  his  own  feeling  for  Hellas  there  can  be  no 
question.  It  pervades  his  works.  "All  the  great  things 
have  been  done  by  the  little  peoples."  He  was  offered,  I 
have  heard,  the  kingship  of  that  country.  But  Greek  ambi- 
tions, he  felt,  outgrew  her  capacities.  Her  hereditary  dream 
has  always  been  Constantinople.  He  bade  her,  in  a  famous 
passage,  take  the  advice  that  he  would  give  to  a  youth  of 
genius  and  enterprise :  "  Be  patient."  But  he  also  insisted 
that  she  should  be  heard  at  the  Conference  of  Berlin. 

With  Poland's  free  aspirations  he  always  sympathised, 
and  more  than  once  expressed  the  grounds  of  his  sympathy 
in  Parliament.  The  movement  in  Poland  was  one,  natural, 
spontaneous,  and  national.  It  was  not  forced  by  agitators, 
nor  fomented  by  despots,  nor  provoked  elsewhere  from 
ulterior  motives.  It  was  the  genuine  expression  of  a  combined 
people,  and  not  the  plea  of  a  single  race  overbearing  its  fellow 
components,  or  the  pretence  of  a  single  locality  to  manage 
itself,  both  of  which  have  so  frequently  proved  the  stalking- 
horse  of  "national  rights;"  pleas  that,  if  sound,  would  bring 
back  the  Heptarchy  in  England,  undo  the  union  of  Germany 
and  of  Italy,  break  up  the  faculty  for  government,  and  resolve 
into  petty  elements  every  great  nation  in  Europe.     Such  an 


244  DISRAELI 

article  of  "  liberal  "  faith  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  political 
atomism  ;  and  its  humanitarian  guise  too  often  the  false 
philanthropy  of  "  sublime  sentiments."  In  all  his  treatment  of 
"  Britain's  interests  abroad,"  Disraeli  realised  that  whereas  in 
England  government  can  still  be  carried  on  by  "  traditionary 
influences,"  the  remaining  ancient  communities  of  Europe 
were  falling  more  and  more  under  the  veiled  sway  of  "  military 
force,"  These  were  the  two  alternatives.  A  "  reconstruction  " 
of  England  "  on  the  great  Transatlantic  model "  would  only 
accentuate  the  discrepancy  between  the  ineradicable  features 
of  her  body  politic,  and  the  social  standard  which  she  would 
seek  to  imitate.  The  result  would  be  that  "after  a  due  course 
of  paroxysms  for  the  sake  of  maintaining  order  and  securing 
the  rights  of  industry,  the  State  quits  the  senate  and  takes 
refuge  in  the  camp  " — 

"  Let  us  not  be  deluded  by  forms  of  government.  The 
word  may  be  republic  in  France,  constitutional  monarchy 
in  Prussia,  absolute  monarchy  in  Austria,  but  the  King  is  the 
same,  WJierever  there  is  a  vast  standing  army  tfie  government 
is  the  government  of  the  sivord.  Half  a  million  of  armed  men 
must  either  be,  or  be  not,  in  a  state  of  discipline.  If  not  .  . 
it  is  not  government  but  anarchy  ;  if  they  be  in  a  state  of 
discipline,  they  must  obey  one  man,  and  that  man  is  the 
master."  ^ 

I  have  tried  to  track  a  large  subject  deserving  a  longer 
space.  At  any  rate,  I  hope  to  have  justified  Disraeli's  own 
language  in  the  touching  letter  which  breathed  farewell  to 
his  constituents  when  failing  health  compelled  him  to  accept 
an  earldom — 

"  Throughout  my  public  life  I  have  aimed  at  two  chief 
results.  Not  insensible  to  the  principle  of  progress,  I  have 
endeavoured  to  reconcile  change  with  that  respect  for  tradi- 
tion which  is  one  of  the  main  elements  of  our  social  strength  ; 
and  in  external  affairs  I  have  endeavoured  to  develop  and 
strengthen  our  empire,  believing  that  a  combination  of  achieve- 
ment and  responsibility  elevates  the  character  and  condition  of  a 
peopled 

It  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that  this  farewell  re-echoes  the 
1  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck  (1852). 


EMPIRE   AND   FOREIGN   POLICY      245 

sentence  quoted  in  my  first  chapter  from  his  tract  W/iat  is  he? 
as  well  as  that  later  Runnymede  Letter  which,  forty  years 
earher,  he  addressed  to  Sir  Robert  Peel.^ 

"...     Spread  it  then, 
And  let  it  circulate  through  every  vein 
Of  all  your  empire  ;  that  where  Britain's  power 
Is  felt,  mankind  may  feel  her  mercy  too." 

1  " .  .  .  The  end  of  their  system  ...  is  the  glory  of  the  empire  and 
the  prosperity  of  th  e  people." 


CHAPTER    VII 
AMERICA— IRELAND 

I  HAVE  associated  these  two  heads  of  discussion  because 
they  have  long  been  coupled  in  home  politics,  at  times 
disastrously,  but  now,  it  may  be  hoped,  under  favouring 
auspices.  On  the  lighter  side  of  American  society  and  its 
first  invasions  of  England  he  also  touched.  I  shall  touch  these 
in  the  next  chapter,  reserving  this  for  the  political  aspects  of 
the  question.  My  first  chapter  has  already  mentioned  the 
paragraph  in  his  earliest  pamphlet,  dedicated  to  Canning. 

Disraeli  was  always  intensely  interested  in  America,  and 
watched  her  development  with  vigilance.  He  predicted  her 
imperial  future.  He  deprecated  jealousy  of  her  power,  and, 
while  England  was  incensed  at  her  conduct  in  1871,  he  alone 
maintained  that  it  was  due  to  the  prejudices  of  a  class  and  the 
objects  of  a  party,  not  to  the  national  sentiment.  He  descried 
in  America's  essential  democracy,  which  adheres  even  to  her 
republican  forms,  one  wholly  peculiar  to  herself — a  democracy 
of  the  soil,  of  which  the  base  and  root  is  land,  underlying  the 
gigantic  commerce  and  colossal  finance  which  are  merely  the 
froth  of  her  wealth  ;  and  in  such  a  democracy  he  perceived  an 
element  of  stability  lacking  to  every  other  known  democratic 
country.  Before  her  crucial  conflict  was  determined,  he  pro- 
phesied, too,  among  the  difficulties  that  must  confront  her,  that 
of  a  vast  number  of  emancipated  negroes.  When  the  great 
struggle  arose  between  the  energy  of  the  North  and  the 
traditions  of  the  South,  Disraeli  also,  alone  among  the  leaders 
of  his  party,  discerned  both  the  probabilities  of  the  winning 
side  and  its  aptitude  for  moderation  and  self-control.  For  this 
sagacity  he  received  Mr.  Bright's  approbation  in  1865.  When 
246 


AMERICA  247 

the  civil  war  was  in  process,  the  gentry  of  England,  naturally 
and  generously  sympathetic  with  the  Southerners,  had  sus- 
pected that  Canada  might  be  threatened,  and  had  wished 
something  "  to  be  done  ;"  Disraeli  restrained  and  allayed  them. 
Mr.  Bright  said  :  "  With  a  thoughtfulness  and  statesmanship 
which  you  do  not  all  acknowledge,  he  did  not  say  a  word  from 
that  bench  likely  to  create  a  difificulty  with  the  United  States. 
I  think  his  chief  and  his  followers  might  learn  something  from 
his  example."  I  quote  this  meed  from  an  opponent,  because 
Mr.  Bryce,  in  his  recent  monograph,  implies  the  contrary  ;  but 
then,  Mr.  Bryce  sometimes  trips,  and  has  made  the  trifling 
mistake  of  naming  "  Lucian  "  as  Disraeli's  pet  classic,  whereas 
surely  it  was  "  Tacitus." 

Disraeli's  leading  idea  as  to  America  was  that,  although 
she  had  long  achieved  independence,  her  original  spirit  had 
remained  colonial,  but  that  her  civil  war  would  transform 
the  past  colony  into  a  coming  empire.  Speaking  in  1863,  he 
said — 

"  I  am  bound  to  say  that  from  the  first — and  subsequent 
events  have  only  confirmed  my  convictions — I  have  always 
looked  upon  the  struggle  in  America  in  the  light  of  a  great 
revolution.^  Great  revolutions,  whatever  may  be  their  alleged 
causes,  are  not  likely  to  be  commenced,  or  to  be  concluded, 
with  precipitation.  Before  tJie  civil  war  commenced^  the  United 
States  luere  colonies,  because  we  should  not  forget  that  such 
communities  do  not  cease  to  be  colonies  because  they  are 
independent.  They  tvere  not  only  colonies,  hit  colonising ;  and 
they  existed  under  all  the  conditions  of  colonial  life  except 
that  of  mere  political  dependence.  But  even  before  the  civil 
war,  I  think  that  all  impartial  observers  must  have  been 
convinced  that  in  that  community  there  were  smouldering 
elements  zvhich  indicated  the  possibility  of  a  change,  and  perhaps 
of  a  violent  change.  The  immense  increase  of  population  ;  the 
still  greater  increase  of  wealth  ;  the  introduction  of  foreign 
races  in  large  numbers  as  citizens,  not  brought  up  under  the 
laws  and  customs  which  were  adapted  to  a  more  limited,  and 

1  Disraeli  was  always  careful  to  distinguish  between  "  revolution  " — 
a  permanent  upheaval,  and  "  insurrection  " — a  transitory  outburst.  Thus 
he  expressly  terms  the  continental  movements  of  1848,  "  insurrections." 


248  DISRAETJ 

practically  a  more  homogeneous,  race  ;  the  character  of  the 
political  constitution,  consequent,  perhaps,  on  these  circum- 
stances ;  tJie  absence  of  any  theatre  for  the  a)nbitious  and  refined 
intellects  of  the  country,  luhich  deteriorated  public  spirit  and 
lowered  public  morality  ;  and,  above  all,  the  increasing  infliience 
of  the  United  States  upon  the  political  fortunes  of  Europe  ; — these 
were  all  circumstances  which  indicated  the  more  than  possibility 
that  the  mo'e  colonial  character  of  these  communities  might 
suddenly  be  violently  subverted,  and  those  imperial  characteristics 
appear  ivhich  seem  to  be  the  destiny  of  man.  I  cannot  conceal 
from  myself  the  conviction  that,  whoever  in  this  House  may  be 
\-oung  enough  to  live  to  witness  the  ultimate  consequences  of 
this  civil  war,  will  see,  whenever  the  waters  have  subsided,  a 
different  America  from  that  which  was  known  to  our  fathers, 
and  even  from  that  of  which  this  generation  has  had  so  much 
experience.  It  will  be  an  America  of  armies,  of  diplomacy,  of 
rival  states  and  manoeuvring  cabinets,  of  frequent  turbulence, 
and  probably  of  frequent  zvars.  With  these  views,  I  have 
myself,  during  the  last  session,  exerted  whatever  influence  I 
possessed  in  endeavouring  to  dissuade  my  friends  from 
embarrassing  her  Majesty's  Government  in  that  position  of 
politic  and  dignified  reserve  which  they  appeared  to  me  to 
have  taken  upon  this  question.  It  did  not  appear  to  me, 
looking  at  these  transactions  across  the  Atlantic,  not  as  events 
of  a  mere  casual  character,  bict  being  siLch  as  might  probably 
influence,  as  the  great  French  Revolution  influenced,  and  is  still 
influencing,  Europeaii  affairs,  that  there  was  on  our  part,  due 
to  the  existing  atithorities  in  America,  a  large  measure  of 
deference  in  the  difficulties  which  they  had  to  encounter.  At 
the  same  time,  it  was  natural  to  feel  .  .  .  the  greatest  respect 
for  those  Southern  States,  who,  representing  a  vast  population 
of  men,  were  struggling  for  some  of  the  greatest  objects  of 
existence — independence  and  power.  .  .  ." 

Long  before  this — in  1856 — he  had  said,  when  America's 
attitude  towards  Central  American  troubles  was  irritating 
England,  that  in  his  opinion  "...  it  would  be  wise  if  Eng- 
land would  at  last  recognise  that  the  United  States,  like  all 
the  great  countries  of  Europe,  had  a  policy,  and  a  right  to 
have  a  policy.      It  was  foolish  for  England   to  regard  with 


AMERICA  249 

jealousy  any  legitimate  extension  of  the  territory  of  the  United 
States  beyond  the  bounds  originally  fixed!'  Such  a  jealousy 
would  not  arrest  or  retard  the  development  of  America ;  but 
it  might  involve  disasters.  He  instanced  California  and  the 
gloomy  forebodings  at  home  with  regard  to  it,  none  of  which 
had  been  realised  ;  and  he  impressed  upon  the  House  that 
"  It  was  the  business  of  a  statesman  to  recognise  the  necessity  of 
an  ijtcrease  of  power  i7i  the  States!'  The  same  year  evoked 
another  speech  which  forecasts  the  tenour  of  that  in  1863, 
and  is  a  fresh  witness  of  the  continuity  of  his  imaginative 
insight,  and  his  wakeful  constancy  of  his  purpose.  After 
deprecating  jealousy  of  America's  political  and  commercial 
progress,  he  thus  proceeded — 

"...  I  cannot  forget  that  the  United  States,  though 
independent,  are  still  in  some  sense  colonies,  and  are  influenced 
by  colonial  tendencies ;  and  when  they  come  in  contact  with 
large  portions  of  territory  scarcely  populated,  or  at  the  most 
sparsely  occupied  by  an  indolent  and  unintelligent  race  of 
men,  it  is  impossible — and  you  yourselves  find  it  impossible — to 
resist  the  tendency  to  expansion  ;  and  expansion  in  that  sense  is 
not  injurious  to  England,  for  it  contributes  to  the  wealth  of 
this  country  (let  us  say  this  in  a  whisper,  lest  it  cross  the 
Atlantic)  more  than  it  diminishes  the  power  of  the  United 
States.  In  our  foreign  relations  with  the  United  States, 
therefore,  I  am  opposed  to  that  litigious  spirit  of  jealousy 
which  looks  upon  the  expansion  of  that  country  and  the 
advance  of  these  young  communities  with  an  eye  of  jealousy 
and  distrust." 

What  he  realised  and  first  proclaimed,  was  that  America 
was  ceasing  to  be  a  mongrel  blend  or  a  colonial  people,  and 
was  fast  becoming  a  national  community,  with  a  voice,  a 
vigour,  a  tendency,  and  in  every  department  a  twang,  so  to 
say,  of  its  own  ;  that,  moreover,  this  consolidation  would  tend 
towards  empire,  and  that  England  must  prepare  for  and 
reckon  with  it,  especially  as  a  partial  crudeness  and  rudeness 
are  to  some  extent  inseparable  from  developments  so  sudden. 
It  had  not  always  been  thus.  Even  long  after  the  Puritan 
settlement,  the  primaeval  charm  of  an  aboriginal  race  clung 
to  its  forests  and  prairies.     The  strain,  the  science  of  race, 


250  DISRAELI 

fascinated  Disraeli  ;  the  unsubdued  and  the  untameable  ever 
appealed  to  him.  Races  could  only  be  replaced  by  nations  ; 
and  the  interval  was  always  atomic  and  confused  ;  but  it  was 
also  one  of  primitive  dash  and  daring.  As  a  youth,  Disraeli, 
in  Contarini,  had  dreamed  of  such  a  life.  In  Venetia^  he  had 
wondered  whether  the  Atlantic  would  ever  be  so  memorable 
as  the  Mediterranean  ;  whether  pushfulness  would  ever  attain 
refinement ;  whether  its  provincialism  might  not  be  doomed 
to  weakness.  "...  Its  civilisation  will  be  more  rapid, 
but  will  it  be  ...  as  permanent .-'...  What  America  is 
deficient  in  is  creative  intelligence.  It  has  no  nationality. 
Its  intelligence  has  been  imported  like  its  manufactured 
goods.  Its  inhabitants  are  a  people,  bnt  are  they  a  nation  ? 
I  wish  that  the  empire  of  the  Incas  and  the  kingdom  of 
Montezuma  had  not  been  sacrificed.  I  wish  that  the  re- 
public of  the  Puritans  had  blended  with  the  tribes  of  the 
Wilderness." 

Two  dangers  for  England,  however,  emanated  from 
America  ;  and  perhaps  they  were  connected.  The  one  was 
American  Anglophobia,  the  other  Fenianism.  The  one 
might  estrange  our  North  American  colonies  ;  the  other  was 
to  imperil  our  national  unity. 

In  1865,  Disraeli  addressed  himself  to  the  former.  The 
American  war  was  not  then  decided.  He  was  not  of  opinion 
that,  when  it  ended,  our  connection  with  Canada  would  bring 
us  into  collision  with  America.  He  did  not  believe  that  if 
the  North  was  vanquished,  it  would  "  feel  inclined  to  enter 
immediately  into  another  struggle  with  a  power  not  inferior 
in  determination  and  in  resources  to  the  Southern  States  of 
America  ; "  and  he  saw  many  rocks  ahead  to  divert  the 
advancing  tide — 

"  I  form  that  opinion  because  I  believe  that  the  people 
of  the  United  States  are  eminently  a  sagacious  people.  I 
don't  think  they  are  insensible  to  the  glory  of  great  dominion 
and  extended  empire,  and  I  give  them  equally  credit  for 
being  influenced  by  passions  which  actuate  mankind,  and 
particularly  nations  which  enjoy  such  freedom  as  they  do. 
But  ...  I  do  not  think  they  would  seize  the  moment  of 

•  Though  pubHshed  in  1836,  it  was  written  considerably  earlier. 


AMERICA  251 

exhaustion  as  being  the  most  favourable  for  the  prosecution 
of  an  enterprise  which  would  require  great  resources  and 
great  exertions." 

He  then  turned  to  the  opinions  which  had  been  ventilated 
on  American  platforms  and  in  certain  American  newspapers. 
He  refused  to  judge  the  real  American  character  and  opinions 
by  them.  "I  look  upon  them,"  he  said,  "as  I  should  look 
upon  those  strange  and  fantastic  drinks  .  .  .  which  are  such 
favourites  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  ;  and  I  should  as 
soon  suppose  this  rowdy  rhetoric  was  the  expression  of  the 
real  feelings  of  the  American  people,  as  that  these  potations 
formed  the  aliment  and  nutriment  of  their  bodies."  And  he 
thus  explained  a  point  which  I  have  already  noticed  :  "  There 
is  another  reason  why  this  violent  course  will  not  be  adopted. 
The  democracy  of  America  must  not  be  confounded  with  the 
democracy  of  the  Old  World.  It  is  not  formed  hy  the  scum 
of  turbulent  cities :  neither  is  it  merely  a  section  of  an  ex- 
hausted middle  class,  ivhich  speculates  in  stocks  and  calls  that 
progress.  It  is  a  territorial  democracy.  Aristotle,  who  has 
taught  us  most  of  the  wise  things  we  know,  never  said  a 
wiser  one  than  this — that  the  cultivators  of  the  soil  are  the 
least  inclined  to  sedition  and  to  violent  courses.  Now,  being 
a  territorial  democracy,  their  character  has  been  formed  and 
influenced,  in  a  manner,  by  the  property  with  which  they  are 
connected,  and  by  the  pursuits  they  follow  ;  and  a  sense  of 
responsibility  arising  from  the  reality  of  their  possessions 
may  much  influence  their  future  conduct."  On  the  other 
hand,  this  great  change  would  certainly  alter  the  spirit  of 
society,  and  perhaps  of  government."  But  he  saw  clearly 
the  difficulties  that  still  beset  her.  "...  We  must  recollect 
that  even  if  the  Federal  Government  should  be  triumphant, 
it  will  have  to  deal  with  most  perplexing  questions  and  with 
a  discontented  population.  .  .  .  The  slave  population  will 
then  be  no  longer  slaves.  There  will  be  several  millions  of 
another  race  emancipated  and  invested  with  all  the  rights  of 
freemen  ;  and,  so  far  as  the  letter  of  the  lazv  is  co?tcerned,  they 
will  be  upon  an  equality  with  the  Saxon  race,  with  whom  they 
can  possibly  have  no  sympathy.  .  .  .  Nothing  tends  more  to 
the  discontent  of  a  people  than  that  they  should  be  in  possession 


252  DISRAELI 

of  privileges  and  rights  zvhich  practically  are  not  recognised, 
and  IV  hick  they  do  not  enjoy'' 

Such  were  the  elements  of  disunion.  To  cope  with 
them  a  strong  government  was  requisite  ;  and  that  meant  a 
centralising  government  with  a  military  force  at  its  command 
to  uphold  unity  and  order.  Our  colonies,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  free  from  such  obstacles,  and  were  themselves  developing 
an  "element  of  nationality."  They  would  not  be  assailed. 
But  none  the  less,  we  must  reckon  with  the  United  States 
in  "the  balance  of  power."  He  would  not  say  that  a  class 
in  America  regarded  old  Europe  "with  feelings  of  jealousy 
or  vindictiveness,"  "...  but  it  is  undeniable  that  the  Unitea 
States  look  to  old  Europe  with  a  want  of  sympathy.  They 
have  no  sympathy  with  a  cotmtjy  that  is  created  and  sustained 
by  tradition."  We  must,  therefore,  for  the  far  future,  foster 
and  defend  our  colonies.  If  Canada  had  preferred  absorp- 
tion by  America,  "...  we  might  terminate  our  connection 
with  dignity,  and  without  disaster."  But  if,  as  appeared, 
Canada  and  our  North  American  colonies  desired  deeply 
and  sincerely  "to  form  a  considerable  state  and  develop  its 
resources,  and  to  preserve  the  patronage  and  aid  of  England, 
.  .  .  then  it  would  be  the  greatest  political  blunder  that  could 
be  conceived,  for  us  to  renounce,  relinquish,  and  avoid  the 
responsibility  of  maintaining  our  interests  in  Canada." 

American  Anglophobia  once  more  engaged  his  attention 
in  1871.  The  pith  of  his  criticism  may  be  summarised  by 
the  purport  of  that  elegant  metaphor,  "  Twisting  the  lion's 
tail."  With  regard  to  the  Alabama  claims,  their  "indirect" 
demands,  and  the  disputes  with  our  colonies,  which  once 
more  provoked  British  feeling,  Disraeli  now  complained  that 
America's  communications  with  England  had  been  couched 
in  arrogant  terms,  while  those  with  Russia  and  Germany  had 
been  courteous.  He  declared  that  it  was  caused  by  rowdy 
rhetoric  addressed  to  "  irresponsible  millions."  "...  The 
reason  of  this  offensive  conduct,"  he  continued,  "  is  this : 
there  is  a  party  in  America,  who  certainly  do  not  monopolise 
the  intelligence,  education,  and  property  of  the  country,  and  who, 
I  believe,  are  not  numerically  the  strongest,  who  attempt  to 
obtain  political  power  and  excite  political  passion  by  abusing 


AMERICA  253 

England  and  its  Government,  because  they  believe  they  can 
do  so  with  impunity.  .  .  .  The  danger  is  this.  Habitually 
exciting  the  passions  of  millions,  some  unfortunate  thing 
happens,  or  something  unfortunate  is  said  in  either  country  ; 
the  fire  lights  up,  it  is  beyond  their  control,  and  the  two 
nations  are  landed  in  a  contest  which  they  can  no  longer 
prevent.  .  .  .  Though  I  should  look  upon  it  as  the  darkest 
hour  of  my  life,  if  I  were  to  counsel,  or  even  to  support,  a 
war  with  the  United  States,  still,  the  United  States  should 
know  that  they  are  not  an  exception  to  the  other  countries 
of  the  world,  that  we  do  not  permit  ourselves  to  be  insulted 
by  any  other  country  in  the  world,  and  that  they  cannot  be 
an  exception."  Nevertheless,  with  regard  to  these  very 
matters,  he  reiterated  as  late  as  1872  :  "Ever  since  I  sat  in 
this  House,  I  have  always  endeavoured  to  maintain  and 
cherish  relations  of  cordiality  and  confidence  between  the 
United  Kingdom  and  the  United  States.  I  have  felt  that 
between  those  two  great  countries  the  material  interests 
were  so  vast,  were  likely  so  greatly  to  increase,  and  were 
in  their  character  so  mutually  beneficial  to  both  countries, 
that  they  alone  formed  bonds  of  union.  .  .  .  But  I  could  not 
forget  that,  in  the  relations  between  the  United  States  and 
England,  there  was  aji  element  also  of  sentiment,  which  ought 
never  to  be  despised  in  politics,  and  without  which  there  can 
be  no  enduring  alliance.  When  the  unhappy  Civil  War 
occurred,  I  endeavoured,  therefore,  so  far  as  I  could,  to  main- 
tain ...  a  strict  neutrality  between  the  Northern  and  the 
Southern  states.  .  .  .  There  were  some  at  a  particular  time 
.  .  .  who  were  anxious  to  obtain  the  recognition  of  the 
Southern  states  by  this  country.  I  never  could  share  that 
opinion.  .  .  .  We  were  of  opinion  that,  had  that  recognition 
occurred,  it  would  not  have  averted  the  final  catastrophe,  .  .  . 
and  it  would,  at  the  same  time,  have  necessarily  involved  this 
country  in  a  war  with  the  Northern  states,  while  there  were 
circumstances  then  existing  in  Europe  ivhich  made  us  believe 
that  the  zvar  might  not  have  been  limited  to  America." 

I  must  now  consider  Fenianism.  Every  one  now  knows 
that  Fenianism,  at  its  inception  in  1865,  though  its  pretext 
was  Ireland   and  its  rallying  centre  America,  was  really  an 


254  DISRAELI 

international  ruffianism  for  the  disruption  of  the  foundations 
of  social  order — was,  in  fact,  an  alliance  of  anarchists  with 
soldiers  of  misfortune.  Disraeli  discerned  this  from  the  first. 
Plots  and  conspiracies  of  all  kinds  piqued  at  once  his  curiosity, 
his  skill,  and  his  fancy.  I  was  told,  more  than  thirty  years 
^go.  by  an  old  gentleman  who  was  a  schoolfellow  of  Disraeli, 
that  he  remembered  a  boyish  mutiny.  Disraeli  headed  the 
conspiracy,  and  the  head-master  himself  listened  at  the  key- 
hole, spellbound  by  the  eloquence  that  controlled  it.  He 
loved  to  unravel  their  machinations,  to  contrast  their  under- 
ground conclaves  with  their  open  appearance.  Conspiracies 
abound  in  Vivian  Grey,  Alroy,  Iskander,  Contarini  Fleming, 
Sybil,  and  Tancred ;  these  very  secret  societies,  together 
with  those  of  Jesuitry,  pervade  LotJiair.  "Mirandola"  and 
"  Captain  Bruges "  are  drawn  from  life.  When  Fenianism 
raged  in  Ireland,  Disraeli  himself  crossed  the  Channel  and 
attended  their  meetings.  He  spoke  about  what  he  knew ; 
and  if  secret  societies  were  his  hobby,  he  was  yet  undoubtedly 
right  in  ascribing  most  of  the  unforeseen  abroad  to  their 
initiation. 

Adverting,  in  1872,  to  its  fatal  influence  on  Ireland,  he 
remarked  :  " .  .  .  The  Civil  War  in  America  had  just  ceased, 
and  a  band  of  military  adventurers,  Poles,  Italians,  and  many 
Irishmen,  concocted  at  New  York  a  conspiracy  to  invade 
Ireland,  with  the  belief  that  the  whole  country  would  rise  to 
welcome  them.  How  that  conspiracy  was  baffled  ...  I  need 
not  now  remind  you.  .  .  .  You  remember  how  the  consti- 
tuencies were  appealed  to,  to  vote  against  the  Government 
who  had  made  so  unfit  an  appointment  as  that  of  Lord  Mayo 
to  the  Viceroyalty  of  India.  It  was  by  his  great  qualities 
when  Secretary  for  Ireland,  by  his  vigilance,  his  courage, 
his  patience,  and  his  perseverance,  that  this  conspiracy  was 
defeated.  He  knew  what  was  going  on  at  New  York,  just  as 
well  as  what  was  going  on  in  the  city  of  Dublin  .-*  .  .  ."  And 
when,  only  a  year  before,  the  then  Lord  Hartington,  at  a 
moment  of  Fenian  resurrection,  withdrew  his  motion  for  a 
secret  committee,  Disraeli  inveighed  against  an  indecision 
that  would  be  flashed  in  an  hour  across  the  Atlantic.  This 
new  movement  of  Fenianism  brought  America  into  dangerous 


AMERICA,  FENIANISM  255 

relations  with  England.  And  in  many  disguises  and  under  miti- 
gated forms,  it  half  associated  itself  with  the  agitation  for  repeal, 
and  the  restless  intrigues  of  the  Papacy.  Paid  Nationalists 
and  peasant  priests  were  brought  into  connection  with  these 
Swiss  guards  of  treason,  ready  to  compass  the  destruction  of 
property  and  authority  in  any  country,  and  for  any  cause. 
It  had  been  otherwise  before  its  invention  in  America.  When 
O'Connell — the  great  O'Connell  as,  despite  everything,  Disraeli 
publicly  confessed  when  he  died — supported  Disraeli  (who 
began  as  an  "  Independent  ")  at  his  first  election  in  1832, 
he  did  so  on  the  common  ground  that  both  abominated  the 
Whig  system  and  desired  the  extension  of  reform.  It  was 
only  afterwards,  when  O'Connell  pronouncedly  lent  himself  to 
what  tended  towards  a  repetition  of  "  Captain  Rock,"  and 
became  at  once  an  agitator  for  dismemberment^  and  a 
pillar  of  the  Whigs,  that  the  young  Disraeli  denounced  the 
fellowship  of  the  dagger  with  the  mitre,  and  incensed  the 
degenerating  patriot  into  insult.  But  the  violence  in  Ireland 
of  O'Connell's  days  was  native.  It  sprang  from,  and  it  dis- 
graced, the  soil.  Fenianism,  however,  added  to  the  ancient 
terrors  of  a  country  distressed  to  madness  and  goaded  into 
crime,  the  worst  horrors  of  cosmopolitan  conspiracies  mated 
with  every  movement  for  the  unsettlement  of  Europe  ;  and 
for  a  while  it  tainted  every  breath  of  Irish  nationalism, 
not  only  with  detestation  of  England,  but  with  enthusiasm 
for  her  enemies.  The  "  Clan-na-gael "  still  foments  the 
last  vestiges  of  genuine  discontent ;  but  the  headquarters 
seem  to  have  shifted  from  New  York  to  a  European  capital. 
And  yet  so  unconcerted  and  unprepared  was  Ireland  her- 
self, however  equipped  and  compact  were  these  mercenary 
foreigners,  that  Disraeli  makes  "  Captain  Bruges  "  exclaim  in 
Lothair,  after  his  rescue  of  the  hero  at  the  meeting,  held 
under  the  sham  banners  of  St.  Joseph  and  harangued  by  a 
mock  priest,  "They  manage  their  affairs  in  general  wonder- 
fully  close,  but  I  have   no   opinion   of  them.     I   have  just 

^  Explaining,  in  1835,  his  phrase  that  -'the  Whigs  had  grasped  the 
bloody  hand  of  O'Connell,"  Disraeli  said  :  "  I  mean  that  they  had  formed 
an  alliance  with  one  whose  policy  was  hostile  to  the  preservation  of  the 
country,  who  threatens  us  with  a  dismemberment  of  the  empire,  which 
cannot  take  place  without  a  civil  war." 


256  DISRAELI 

returned  from  Ireland,  where  I  thought  I  would  go  and  see 
what  they  really  are  after.  No  real  business  in  them.  Their 
treason  is  a  fairy  tale,  and  their  sedition  a  child  talking  in  its 
sleep." 

And  this  brings  me  to  Disraeli's  ideas  concerning  the 
romantic,  the  persecuted,  the  generous,  the  witty,  the  pathetic 
Ireland. 

No  one  who  has  studied  his  career  can  question  his  intense 
sympathy.  Many  of  his  earliest  friends  had  been  brilliant 
Irishmen  and  Irishwomen.  He  too  sprang  from  a  race  once 
persecuted,  still  pathetic,  always  witty  and  romantic.  Already, 
in  1843,  Disraeli  had  exclaimed:  "You  must  reorganise  and 
reconstruct  the  Government,  and  even  the  social  state  of 
Ireland.  ...  By  really  penetrating  into  the  mystery  of  this 
great  misgovernment "  might  be  brought  about  "  a  state  of 
society  which  would  be  advantageous  both  to  England  and 
Ireland,  and  which  would  put  an  end  to  a  state  of  things 
that  was  the  bane  of  England  and  opprobrium  of  Europe." 
But  his  ideas  are  conspicuously  set  forth  in  the  great  speech 
of  1844,  which  won  the  high  praise  of  Macaulay,  which 
Mr.  Gladstone,  some  quarter  of  a  century  later,  described  as 
one  of  the  "most  closely  woven  tissues  of  argument  and 
observation  that  had  ever  been  heard  in  the  House,"  and  the 
reperusal  of  which  he  recommended  as  an  intellectual  "  treat ; " 
though  Disraeli  himself  then  ironically  observed  that  when  he 
delivered  it,  nobody  appeared  to  listen.  "  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  pouring  water  upon  sand,  but  it  seems  now  that 
the  water  came  from  a  golden  goblet."  He  showed  that, 
politically,  Ireland  was  an  open  question.  It  was  not  the 
Tories  who  started  the  penal  code.  Mr.  Pitt  would  have 
settled  the  question  long  ago  had  not  the  great  war  diverted 
his  policy.  Again,  the  grievances  of  Ireland  were  not  due  to 
Protestantism.  They  were  owing  to  Puritanism — Puritanism 
in  disloyal  rebellion  against  which  loyal  Ireland  rebelled. 
Ireland,  he  proved,  was  never  so  contented  as  in  1635.  There 
was  then  perfect  civil  and  religious  equality.  "  At  that  period 
there  was  a  Parliament  in  Dublin  called  by  a  Protestant  king, 
presided  over  by  a  Prot^tant /viceroy,  and  at  that  moment 


IRELAND  257 

there  was  a  Protestant  Established  Church  in  Ireland  ;  yet 
the  majority  of  the  members  of  that  Parliament  were  Roman 
Catholics.  The  government  was  at  that  time  carried  on  by 
a  council  of  state  presided  over  by  a  Protestant  deputy,  yet 
many  of  the  members  of  that  council  were  Roman  Catholics. 
The  municipalities  were  then  full  of  Roman  Catholics.  Several 
of  the  sheriffs  also  were  Roman  Catholics,  and  a  very  con- 
siderable number  of  magistrates  were  Roman  Catholics.  It 
is,  therefore,  very  evident  that  it  is  not  tJie  necessary  consequence 
of  English  connection — of  a  Protestant  monarchy,  or  even  of 
a  Protestant  Omrch — that  this  embittered  feeling  at  present 
exists  ;  nor  that  that  system  of  exclusion,  which  either  in  form 
or  spirit  has  so  long  existed,  is  the  consequence  of  Protestantism^ 

It  was  not  the  Protestantism,  not  the  connection,  but  the 
kind  of  Protestantism,  the  sort  of  connection,  the  exclusive 
and  selfish  spirit,  that  filled  Ireland  with  ferment. 

Hitherto  Government  had  offered  "a  little  thing  in  a 
great  way."  ^  "Justice  to  Ireland"  had  been  long  cried  on 
the  housetops.  What  was  the  meaning  of  that  cry?  It 
only  signified  a  forced  identity  of  English  institutions  with 
Irish.  Identity,  however,  was  just  what  Ireland  resented  with 
disgust. 

What  were  her  stumbling-blocks  and  stones  of  offence } 
What  was  "  the  Irish  question  "  .-■  "  One  says  it  is  a  physical 
question,  another  a  spiritual.  Now  it  is  the  absence  of  the 
aristocracy,  now  the  absence  of  railroads.  It  is  the  Pope  one 
day,  potatoes  the  next.  Let  us  consider  Ireland  as  we  should 
any  other  country  similarly  situated.  .  .  .  Then  we  shall  see 
a  teeming  population,  which,  with  reference  to  the  cultivated 
soil,  is  denser  to  the  square  mile  than  that  of  China  ;  created 
solely  by  agriculture,  with  none  of  those  sources  of  wealth 
which  are  developed  with  civilisation,  and  sustained,  conse- 
quently, on  the  lowest  conceivable  diet ;  so  that,  in  case  of 
failure,  they  have  no  other  means  of  subsistence  upon  which 
they  can  fall  back.    That  dense  population  in  extreme  distress 

1  Cf.  the  "  passionate  carelessness  "  in  "  the  old  state  of  affairs  "  of"  this 
experimental  chapter  in  our  history"  in  the  speech  of  March,  1869.  On 
the  "  Maynooth  Grant"  question,  also,  he  observed,  in  1846,  that  the 
boons  offered  to  the  Roman  CathoMcs  w^ere,  that  "  two  should  sleep  in  a 
bed  instead  of  three." 
S 


258  DISRAELI 

inhabit  an  island  where  there  is  an  Established  Church  which 
is  not  their  Church,  and  a  territorial  aristocracy,  the  richest 
of  whom  live  in  distant  capitals.  Thus  you  have  a  starving 
population,  an  absentee  aristocracy,  and  an  alien  Church ; 
arid,  in  addition,  the  iveakest  executive  in  the  world.  That  is 
the  Irish  question.     What  were  the  remedies  .'' 

"  To  begin  with,  and  before  anything  else,  you  must  have 
a  representative,  a  responsive,  a  strong  Executive.  Ireland 
is  an  exceptional  piece  of  the  United  Kingdom,  and  she 
alone  demands  what  is  foreign  to  the  English  spirit — centrali- 
sation of  government.  Next,  the  administration  must  be 
impartial.  There  must  be  no  exclusion  and  no  favouritism. 
You  must  also  have  ecclesiastical  equality.  The  Church  in 
Ireland  must  change  the  tone  of  its  temper.  And  you  must 
'  reconstruct  the  social  system  '  of  Ireland.  '  All  great  things 
are  difficult ;'  but  it  is  more  difficult  to  reconstruct  a  society 
than  a  party.  Agitation  only  unsettles  :  it  does  not  settle ; 
and  it  means  the  incompetence  of  a  Government.  You  must 
'  create  public  opinion  instead  of  following  it ;  lead  the  public 
instead  of  always  lagging  after  and  watching  others.' 

"...  What,  then,  is  the  duty  of  an  English  minister  ?  To 
effect  by  his  policy  all  those  changes  which  a  revolution  would  do 
by  force.  ...  It  is  quite  evident  that,  to  effect  this,  we  must 
have  an  Executive  in  Ireland  which  shall  bear  a  much  nearer 
relation  to  the  leading  classes  and  characters  of  the  country  than 
it  does  at  present.  There  must  be  a  much  more  comprehensive 
Executive,  and  then,  having  produced  order,  the  rest  is  a 
question  of  time.  There  is  no  possible  way  by  which  the 
physical  condition  of  the  people  can  be  improved  by  Act  of 
Parliament."  ^ 

So  I  read  this  pregnant  deliverance.  So,  I  believe,  will 
read  it  any  one  who  scans  it  closely  in  relation  to  its  time 
and  setting.  In  1868,  when  there  was  capital  to  be  made  out 
of  it,  Mr.  Gladstone  did  not  so  read  it.  Mr.  Gladstone  con- 
tended— and  he  had  full  right  to  contend — that,  with  regard 

1  Eight  years  before,  Disraeli  had  written  in  the  trenchant  slap-dash 
of  his  Runnymede  Letters  :  "...  Then,  Ireland  must  be  tranquillised. 
So  I  think.  Feed  the  poor  and  hang  the  agitators.  That  will  do  it. 
But  that's  not  your  way.  It  is  the  destruction  of  the  English  and  Pro- 
testant interest  that  is  the  Whig  specific  for  Irish  tranquillity.'' 


IRELAND  259 

to  the  Church,  at  any  rate,  it  spelled  out  "  Destruction." 
Disraeli  contented  himself  with  retorting  :  " .  .  .  There  are 
many  remarks  which,  if  I  wanted  to  vindicate  ,  .  .  myself,  I 
might  legitimately  make.  .  .  .  But  I  do  not  care  to  say  it, 
and  I  do  not  wish  to  say  it,  because  in  my  conscience  the 
sentiment  of  that  speech  zuas  right.  .  .  ."  My  view  is  that  it 
spelled  out  "  Reconstruction."  It  would  have  settled  Ireland 
and  the  Irish  question  by  the  principles  of  1636  and  on  the 
lines  of  1792,  and  not  either  by  the  Orange  lodges  of  1795, 
which  answered  Pitt's  abortive  schemes  of  improvement,  or 
by  the  undemanded  spoliation  of  1868,  which  trebled  the 
discontent  it  designed  to  allay.  All  Pitt's  proposed  measures 
were  against  exclusion.  He  tried  to  grant  Ireland  that  free 
outlet  for  her  manufactures  to  England  which  had  proved  her 
main  source  of  discontent  throughout  the  eighteenth  century. 
He  tried  to  include  the  Protestant  Dissenters  as  well  as  the 
Roman  Catholics  in  the  avenues  to  political  power.  He  was 
foiled  by  the  selfishness  and  corruption  of  an  Irish  caste,  and 
by  the  spread  of  the  French  Revolution  to  the  Irish  multitude. 
But  in  each  case  inclusion  was  his  principle  ;  development, 
not  destruction.  Disraeli  followed  him.  It  was  his  hatred 
of  exclusiveness  that  prompted  his  aversion  alike  to  the 
Whiggism  of  the  Grenvilles  and  the  Toryism  of  Eldon.  It 
was  his  devotion  to  wide  and  popular  as  opposed  to  democratic 
and  class  principles  that  drew  him  to  the  Toryism  of  Boling- 
broke  and  Wyndham,  and  enabled  him  to  reconstruct  the  Tory 
party  on  its  first  but  forgotten  foundations. 

But  if  we  want  a  practical  comment  on  the  speech  of 
1844,  we  have  it  in  an  utterance  of  1868.  In  1868  he  defined 
the  position  :"...!  said  the  other  night,  as  I  say  now,  that 
I  think  you  might  elevate  the  status  of  the  unendowed  clergy 
in  Ireland.  .  .  .  My  opinion  is,  that  if  this  system  of  concilia- 
tion, founded  on  the  principle  that  in  Ireland  ;you  ought  to 
create  and  not  destroy,  had  been  pursued,  you  might  have 
elevated  the  Irish  Church  greatly  to  its  advantage.  You 
might  have  rendered  it  infinitely  more  useful.  ...  I  do  not 
think  it  impossible  that  you  might  have  introduced  measures 
which  would  have  elevated  the  status  of  the  unendowed 
clergy,    and    so   softened   and    terminated   those  feelings  of 


26o  DISRAELI 

inequalit}'  which  now  exist,  so  that  you  might  have  had  the 
same  equality  in  the  state  of  Ireland  wJiich  you  have  in  England. 
There  is  perfect  equality  in  the  state  of  the  Dissenter  in 
England,  although  his  is  no  established  Church.  That  state 
of  things  might  exist  in  Ireland,  if  you  had  taken  measures 
which  would,  among  a  sensitive  people,  have  prevented  a 
sentiment  of  humiliation.  .  .  .  Without  disestablishment, 
without  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  concurrent  endowment, 
there  might  have  been  a  system  of  Government  grants  both 
to  Romanists  and  Dissenters  for  education  and  other  public 
objects.  That  is  how  I  interpret  the  'ecclesiastical  equality' 
of  1844;  'to  create  and  not  to  destroy.'"^  And,  speaking 
again  of  his  desire  to  supplement  the  educational  means  for 
the  Roman  Catholics,  he  said  :  "  .  .  .  That  is  in  accordance 
with  our  uniform  policy,  ...  a  reconciliation  between  creeds 
and  classes." 

After  1844  the  Irish  question  still  festered.  Nowhere  did 
the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  inflict  more  immediate  distress 
than  in  a  country  so  dependent  on  native  agriculture  as 
Ireland  was  then  and  still  remains.  Pauperism  became  the 
crying  evil  of  Ireland.  Even  in  1869,  more  than  a  quarter 
of  the  inhabitants  were  paupers.  Pauperism  defied  "  political 
palliatives."  The  Government  of  Ireland,  despite  his  warnings, 
remained  a  weak  one,  and,  alluding  to  this  in  a  famous  speech 
of  1869,  he  pertinently  brought  into  prominence  the  fact  that 
what  strength  it  has  depends  now  on  its  connection  with 
England.  "...  The  Government  of  Ireland  is  not  a  strong 
one  ;  its  sanctions  are  less  valid  than  those  of  the  Govern- 
ment of  England.  It  has  not  the  historic  basis  which  England 
rests  upon.  It  has  not  the  tradition  which  the  English 
Government  rests  upon.  It  does  not  depend  upon  that  vast 
accumulation  of  manners  and  customs  which  in  England  are 
really  more  powerful  than  laws  or  statutes."  What  Disraeli 
felt  all  along  was  that  Ireland  needed  security  for  capital 
and  variety  of  employment ;  and  that  for  these  repose  and 

^  He  was  alluding  to  Lord  Derby's  earlier  efforts.  And  again,  in 
another  speech  :  " .  .  .  The  principles  of  our  policy  were,  first,  to  create 
and  not  destroy  ;  and,  secondly,  to  acknowledge  th;it  you  could  not  in 
any  more  effectual  way  strengthen  the  Protestant  interest  than  by  doing 
justice  to  the  Roman  Catholics." 


IRELAND  261 

order  were  requisite.  In  November,  1868,  alluding  to  the 
naturalisation  of  Fenianism  in  Ireland  at  a  time  when  Ireland 
was  inherently  contented  and  immeasurably  superior  to  her 
plight  in  1844 — when  she  had  begun  to  rest  and  be  thank- 
ful— he  made  the  following  comment : — 

"...  In  Ireland  there  was  always  a  degree  of  morbid 
discontent  which  the  Fenians  believe  they  may  fan  into  flame, 
and  which  might  lead  to  the  revolutionary  result  they  desire. 
The  whole  nature  of  the  race  will  account  for  it.  An  Irish- 
man is  an  imaginative  being.  He  lives  in  an  island,  in 
a  damp  climate  and  contiguous  to  the  melancholy  ocean. 
He  has  710  variety  of  pursuit.  There  is  no  nation  in  the 
world  that  leads  so  monotonous  a  life  as  the  Irish,  because 
their  only  occupation  is  the  cultivation  of  tJie  soil  before  them. 
.  .  .  The  Irishman  in  other  countries,  where  he  has  a  fair  field 
for  his  talents  iit  various  occupations,  is  equal,  if  not  superior, 
to  most  races.  ...  I  may  say  with  frankness  that  I  think 
this  is  the  fault  of  the  Irish.  If  they  led  that  kind  of  life 
which  would  invite  the  introduction  of  capital  into  the  country, 
all  this  ability  might  be  utilised  ;  and  instead  of  those  feelings 
which  they  acquire  by  brooding  over  the  history  of  their 
country,  a  great  part  of  which  is  merely  traditionary,  you 
would  find  men  acquiring  fortunes,  and  arriving  at  conclusions 
on  politics  entirely  different  from  those  which  they  now 
offer." 

The  same  outlook  prompted  him  in  another  speech  to 
regret  the  cry  of  a  "  conquered  people "  which  the  manipu- 
lators of  grievance  perpetually  raised.  Ireland  was  no  more 
a  conquered  country  than  England.  In  both  there  had  been 
conquerors  and  conquests  ;  ^  but  in  both  a  blend  of  races  and 
institutions  which  had  produced  a  nation  in  one,  and  made 
for  nationality  in  the  other. 

Time  went  on.  Ireland  had  improved  by  rest.  There 
was  even  prosperity  in  her  borders.  Fenianism  was  sub- 
siding.^     Classes    were    less    estranged.      Emigration    had 

^  He  pointed  out  that  England  experienced  both  Norman  and  Dutch 
conquests  ;  and  that  if  Cromwell  conquered  Ireland,  he  conquered 
England  too. 

-  "  .  .  .  Fenianism  now  is  not  rampant ;  we  think  we  have  gauged  its 


262  DISRAELI 

increased,  but  the  Liberals  welcomed  emigration.  Disraeli 
had  risen  into  supreme  power,  and  had  constitutionalised  the 
democracy  by  his  Bill  of  1867.  The  Radicals  were  incensed 
at  the  measure,  which  they  had  coveted  in  another  form  and 
with  sectional  objects.  The  stififer  even  of  his  own  party 
stood  aghast,  and  some  seceded.  The  Liberals  began  to 
nibble  at  the  Radical  bait.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the 
Whigs,  when  in  political  despair,  usually  resort  to  a  revo- 
lutionary measure.  Already,  over  thirty  years  before,  they 
had  done  so  in  connection  with  Ireland.  Suddenly,  without 
warning,  without  a  popular  mandate,  or  even  an  Irish  out- 
cry for  the  upheaval,  like  a  bolt  from  the  blue  came  Mr. 
Gladstone's  first  great  conversion  from  principles  firmly 
protested  only  a  year  before.^  The  question  was  sprung 
on  both  countries.  He  brought  in,  and  in  a  manner  so 
imperious  that  a  solid  portion  of  his  own  followers  deserted 
him,  his  Act  for  the  Disestablishment  and  Disendowment  of 
the  Irish  Church  ;  not  only  for  its  severance  from  the  State, 
but  for  its  spoliation  by  the  State. 

In  the  abstract  its  disestablishment,  apart  from  its  dis- 
endowment, was  a  great,  a  just,  and  a  generous  measure  ; 
theoretically  it  was  as  sound  as  bimetallism.  But  its  logical 
issues  were  incompatible  with  a  united  kingdom.  They 
really,  on  examination,  involved  that  separatist  theory  of  the 
"  right "  of  "  nationalities  "  to  be  self-governing,  of  which  he 
grew  so  fond.  "  Nationality  "  is  here  a  wrong  expression,  for 
"  nationality  "  is,  by  its  essence,  a  term  of  union,  and  not  of 
division.  It  should  be  "  Locality."  What  is  meant  by  this 
assumed  "right"  is,  that  particular  races  or  particular  pro- 
vinces, absorbed  into  or  dependent  on  "nationalities,"  are 
entitled,  from  the  mere  fact  of  their  geographical  limits,  to 
withdraw  from  the  greater  whole  of  which  they  are  portions. 
This  theory  would  revive  the  Heptarchy.  It  would  make 
Jersey  and  Guernsey,  or  the  Isle  of  Man,  it  would  make  Scot- 
land or  Wales,  a  "  nation." 

lowest  depths,  and  we  are  not  afraid  of  it "  (Speech,  April  3,  1868).  As 
regards  coercion,  he  always  maintained  that  proved  sedition  alone 
justified  it. 

'  He  wrote  that  the  question  of  the  Church  in  Ireland  was  one  totally 
without  the  pale  of  modern  politics.  His  programme  also  at  the  dissolu- 
tion breathed  not  a  word  on  the  subject. 


IKELAND  263 

I  say  that  Mr.  Gladstone's  measure,  introduced  when 
and  how  it  was,  and  with  its  double  purport,  involved  these 
conclusions,  because  if  the  mere  existence  of  an  "  alien  Church  " 
justifies  the  severance  of  the  ties  between  authority  and 
religion,  and  the  plunder  of  its  revenues  for  purposes  other 
than  that  for  which  they  were  created,  then  the  same  reason- 
ing would  not  only  justify  the  abolition  of  an  alien  and  the 
substitution  of  a  native  government,  but  also  a  refusal  to 
contribute  any  revenue  to  the  deposed  government  at  all. 
There  might  be  occasions  demanding  such  a  course.  An 
oppressive  Church,  a  tyrannical  government,  might  well  be 
swept  away  by  a  statesman  with  ears  to  hear  the  cries  of 
impatience  and  eyes  to  see  the  ravages  of  injustice — a  true 
statesman  who,  as  Disraeli  said  in  1844,  would  accomplish  by 
statute  and  conciliation  what  revolutions  necessitate  by  force. 

But  this  was  not  one  of  them.  The  English  Church  itself 
was  not  practically  resented,  however  its  historical  existence 
might  be  made  to  rankle  in  common  with  the  other  historical 
anomalies  in  Ireland,  including  its  connection  with  England. 
The  Church  itself  had  been  bettered,  and  might  be  still  more 
improved.  It  was  alive  with  opportunities.  The  Catholics 
and  the  Dissenters  might,  apart  from  the  Establishment,  which 
stood  for  British  authority,  be  set  upon  a  complete  equality, 
and  helped  towards  usefulness  in  many  directions.  The  Church 
itself  had  proved  a  valuable  educational  centre.  The  Roman 
clergy  called,  not  for  its  extinction,  but  for  its  disendowment  ; 
and  rather  because  they  could  not  bear  to  think  that  it  was 
there  at  all,  just  as  they  cannot  bear  to  think  that  it  exists  in 
England,  than  because  they  wanted  the  revenues  or  suffered 
under  the  rebuffs  or  rivalry  of  an  English  Church.  It  was 
an  argument,  as  Disraeli  put  it,  that  might  be  paralleled  if  all 
those  Irish  gentlemen  who  had  small  estates,  but  frequented 
the  same  society,  were  to  say  that  their  brethren  of  large 
estates  should  surrender  their  revenues  to  the  State  ;  or  if 
the  unendowed  hospitals  of  London  were  to  exact  the  de- 
prival  of  the  endowments  enjoyed  by  St.  Bartholomew's, 
St.  Thomas's,  and  Guy's,  not  with  the  object  of  themselves 
sharing  them,  but  out  of  wanton  envy. 

Disraeli  delivered   three  main  speeches  of  great  power, 


264  DISRAELI 

interest,  and  length  on  this  subject.  I  shall  not  quote  them 
in  words,  but  shall  only  endeavour  to  present  their  pith. 

As  regards  the  Disestablishment. 

He  objected  to  it  on  principle — the  principles  outlined  in 
my  second  chapter.  The  union  of  Church  and  State  is  a 
symbol  of  the  Divine  nature  of  government,  which  is  the 
only  truth  underlying  the  obsolete  fiction  of  the  "  Divine 
Right  of  Kings."  He  objected  to  it  on  policy.  Divorce  the 
religious  principle  from  that  of  government,  and  it  is  the 
State  that  will  suffer  most.  The  result  must  be  disorder. 
One  day  that  might  take  a  peculiar  form.  The  political 
power  once  separated  from  the  spiritual,  a  crisis  might  arise 
where  the  two  might  collide  ;  and  where,  though  the  political 
power  might  be  right,  the  spiritual  would  appeal  in  haste  to 
both  passion  and  prejudice. 

As  regards  the  Disendoivment. 

He  objected  to  it  on  principle.  The  plunder  of  public 
corporations  was  nothing  new,  but  where  the  trust  for  which 
the  corporation  had  been  endowed  was  not  observed  in  the 
application  of  the  spoil  by  the  State,  which  was  a  trustee,  it 
was  indefensible.  It  became  confiscation.  "  Irish  purposes  " 
were  vaguely  hinted  as  the  destination,  but  the  repeal  of  the 
whisky  duty  might  be  an  "  Irish  purpose  ; "  and  where  was 
the  sense  of  dedicating  some  of  this  annexed  property  to 
Irish  pauper  lunatics  ?  Moreover,  historically,  he  had  always 
noticed  that  the  spoil  of  the  Church  went  eventually  to  enrich 
the  large  landed  proprietors. 

He  objected  to  it  on  policy.  One  of  the  causes  of  discon- 
tent was  alleged  to  be  that  a  particular  Church  was  not 
connected  with  the  State.  Mr.  Gladstone  proposed  to 
regenerate  the  country  by  having  three  Churches  not  con- 
nected with  the  State.  Discontent,  however,  would  still 
remain  smouldering,  and  Disraeli  prophesied  that  its  next 
phase  would  threaten  the  tenure  of  land.  What  would 
be  the  effect  in  this  relation  of  having  three  Churches 
disconnected  from  the  State  ?  The  land  question  would,  he 
predicted,  assume  many  threatening  forms  with  one  purpose 
— a  purpose  against  the  rights  and  the  duties  of  property. 
One  Church  was  to  be  deprived   of  property  which  none  of 


IRELAND  265 

the  others  claimed.  Three  sets  of  clergy  were  to  be  equally 
apart  from  the  State.  A  class  in  the  first  place,  therefore, 
and  that  a  class  of  resident  proprietors,  was  to  be  destroyed  ; 
when  it  was  agreed  that  one  of  the  evils  in  Ireland  was  the 
want  of  a  variety  of  classes  and  of  resident  proprietors.  In 
the  second,  one  of  the  avowed  evils,  the  curse  of  Ireland,  was 
poverty ;  but  here  was  an  Act  to  confiscate  property,  and 
that  property  in  its  nature  popular — the  appanage  of  the 
people. 

When  the  land  question  should  arise,  there  might  ensue 
a  triple  danger,  that  of  three  sets  of  clergy  divided  in 
theology  and  matters  of  discipline,  but  united  in  discontent ; 
and  the  three  might  eventually  demand  the  restoration  of  the 
national  property  ;  and  if  it  were  refused,  there  might  be 
revolution.  England  could  afford  no  more  revolutions.  But, 
in  any  case,  the  spoliation  of  the  Protestant  clergy  would 
breed  jealousies  among  themselves  also  ;  for  they  were 
actually  invited  and  induced  (by  means  which  he  exposed) 
to  co-operate  in  their  own  expropriation.  The  plunder  of  the 
Catholic  clergy  had  bred  great  discontent.  The  plunder  of 
the  Protestant  clergy  would  do  the  same.  And  if  discontent 
were  left  to  grow  as  it  went,  the  land  outcry  would  produce 
others,  and  they  again  others  in  their  turn  and  train.  There 
would  be  no  rest,  no  finality.  It  would  be  discontent  without 
end. 

Far  more  than  this,  however,  he  objected  to  the  ultimate 
consequences  of  this  revolutionary  departure.  Confiscation 
was  contagious.  What  was  now  applied — and  applied  in  a 
form  aggravated  by  its  complications — to  the  national  pro- 
perty, might  one  day  be  applied  to  private  property.  What 
was  now  applied  to  Ireland  might  one  day  be  forcibly 
applied  to  England.  If  the  public  disaster  of  the  dis- 
establishment and  disendowment  of  the  English  Church  ever 
took  place,  in  deference  to  the  jealousy  of  a  class  and  not 
because  of  its  own  inherent  decay  as  a  great  civil  and 
ecclesiastical  institution,  it  would  be  aided  by  the  precedent 
of  Ireland. 

Such  is  the  pith,  though  many  of  the  details  and  much  of 
the  historical  criticism  are  omitted  ;    nor   have  I  here    dealt 


266  DISRAELI 

witli  the  Maynooth  and  "  Regium  Donum  "  problems  and 
their  bearings  on  these  matters,  which  Disraeli  discussed  in 
full.  But  I  have  condensed  enough  to  point  the  path  of  his 
ideas. 

Not  all  these  dismal  forebodings  have  yet  been  realised  ; 
but  many  of  them,  unfortunately,  came  to  pass.  Ireland's 
discontent,  Catholic  discontent,  were,  neither  of  them,  allayed 
by  the  disestablishment  and  disendowment  of  the  Protestant 
Church.  The  clergy  of  that  Church  are  still  far  from  contented. 
The  land  question  burst  out  within  a  brief  space  of  Disraeli's 
prediction.  It  brought  with  it  a  long  and  fatal  series  of 
cumulative  troubles  ;  and,  as  Disraeli  had  also  predicted,  the 
actual  rights  of  civil  property,  the  rights  of  civilised  society, 
became  invaded.  "  Compensation  for  disturbance  "  asserted 
the  right  to  pay  no  rent.  For  a  time  the  last  state  of  Ireland 
was  almost  worse  than  the  first.  There  were  "  months  of 
murder,  incendiarism,  and  every  conceivable  outrage."  "  The 
Executive  absolutely  abandoned  their  functions."  Disraeli's 
last  trumpet-call  was  to  warn  the  country,  in  his  celebrated 
letter  to  the  Lord-Lieutenant,  that  there  were  those  who 
wished  to  sever  Ireland  from  England  as  part  of  a  scheme 
for  the  disruption  of  the  Empire.  In  1881  he  adverted  to 
that  warning. 

"...  Now  what  was  the  consequence  of  that  declaration  > 
The  present  Government  took  an  early  opportunity  soon  after 
I  had  made  that  declaration,  to  express  a  contrary  opinion. 
They  said  there  was  in  Ireland  an  absence  of  crime  and 
outrage,  with  a  general  sense  of  comfort  and  satisfaction.  .  .  . 
I  warned  the  constituencies  that  there  was  going  on  in  Ireland 
a  conspiracy  which  aimed  at  the  disunion  of  the  two  countries, 
and  probably  at  something  more.  I  said  that  if  they  were 
not  careful  something  might  happen  almost  as  bad  as  pesti- 
lence and  famine.  .  .  .  My  observations,  of  course,  were 
treated  with  that  ridicule  which  a  successful  election  always 
secures.  .  .  ." 

We  all  know  the  rest.  The  country  was  only  saved  by  a 
secession  of  the  light  and  leading  of  the  Liberal  party  from 
their  rash  and  misguided  leader.  Wisdom  has  been  justified 
of  her  child. 


IRELAND  267 

In  conclusion,  let  me  say  that  none  would  have  welcomed 
more  gratefully  than  Disraeli  the  statesmanlike  effort  to 
settle  the  land  question  which  has  recently  made  England 
the  landlord  of  Ireland.  He  might  have  descried  in  it 
elements  of  difficulty,  and  even  of  some  danger  for  the  future. 
But  it  would,  in  the  main,  I  am  confident,  have  received  his 
unstinted  support ;  for  it  is  founded  on  the  rock  of  concilia- 
tion— on  Disraeli's  policy  "  To  create  and  not  to  destroy'^ 


M 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SOCIETY 

ACAULAY  observes  of  Frances  Burney  that  "  while 
still  a  girl  she  had  laid  up  such  a  store  of  materials 
for  fiction  as  few  of  those  who  mix  much  in  the 
world  are  able  to  accumulate  during  a  long  life. 
She  had  watched  and  listened  to  people  of  every  class,  from 
princes  and  great  officers  of  State,  down  to  artists  living  in 
garrets  and  poets  familiar  with  subterranean  cook-shops. 
Hundreds  of  remarkable  persons  had  passed  in  review  before 
her — English,  French,  German,  Italian,  lords  and  fiddlers, 
deans  of  cathedrals  and  managers  of  theatres,  travellers 
leading  about  newly  caught  savages,  and  singing  women 
escorted  by  deputy  husbands." 

This  is  true  of  Disraeli.  Long  before  he  entered  public 
life,  before  he  knew  the  inimitable  D'Orsay,  or  even  the 
luminous  Lyndhurst,  before  his  most  happy  marriage,  he  had 
entered  society  at  both  doors — the  gate  of  horn  and  the  gate 
of  ivory.  As  a  stripling  of  twenty  he  had  been  sent,  as  we  have 
seen,  by  Murray,  the  founder  of  his  own  fortune  on  Byron's 
fortune  and  misfortunes,  to  Abbotsford  and  Sir  Walter  Scott. 
The  young  Disraeli  used  to  dub  Murray  "the  Emperor." 
Murray  described  him  as  the  most  remarkable  young  man 
he  had  ever  met  ;  "  a  deep  thinker  but  thoroughly  practical 
in  his  ideas,"  at  once  brilliant  and  solid,  of  a  bright  and  airy 
disposition  which  endeared  him  to  the  young,  and,  himself 
unspoilt  as  "  a  child  ; "  singularly  happy  in  his  home 
relations,  and  "his  father  is  my  oldest  friend."  That  father 
was  himself  a  singular  and  remarkable  man,  who  had  attracted 
a  distinguished  coterie.  He  was  Pye's  early  intimate  and 
Thomas  Baring's  friend.  His  ties  with  Penn  cemented  his 
268 


SOCIETY  269 

love  of  Buckingham*shire.  He  was  familiar  with  Southey,  and 
he  knew  Mrs.  Siddons.  He  conversed  with  Samuel  Rogers  ^ 
and  Tom  Moore ;  he  had  corresponded  and  dined  with 
Byron,  of  whom  "  Disraeli  the  Younger  "  has  recorded  some 
striking  traits.  He  knew  all  the  men  of  quills  and  letters, 
including  the  antiquarian  Bliss  and  Douce,  many  of  the  wits, 
and  some  of  the  "  wit-woulds."  His  own  brother-in-law, 
George  Basevi,  was  an  eminent  architect,^  and  architecture 
is  often  touched  in  the  son's  novels.^  Another  member 
of  the  family  was  a  conveyancer,  and  through  him  the 
son  was  first  sent  to  read  law  with  a  solicitor,  in  whose 
office  he  read  Chaucer,  and  was  then  entered  at  Lincoln's 
Inn.  He  had  artistic  acquaintances  also.  Barry,  he  knew 
well.  Downman  painted  his  wife,  and  Downman's  brother  was 
his  associate.  And  there  were  also  some  men  of  affairs  who 
visited  Isaac  Disraeli's  house.  The  burrowing  and  irrepres- 
sible Croker,  afterwards  so  mercilessly  satirised  as  "  Rigby,"  * 
and  equally  trounced,  poor  man,  by  Thackeray  and  Macaulay, 
seems  to  have  been  his  occasional  purveyor  of  politics.  But 
for  contemporary  parties  he  cared  little.  He  was  a  solitary 
student  of  the  past  ;  excavating  ancient  manuscripts  in  the 
British  Museum  when  the  daily  number  of  such  scholars  did 
not  exceed  six.  He  was  shy,  meditative,  dreamy,  and  dis- 
passionate. But  he  was  poet  besides  recluse  ;  his  earliest  court- 
ship, while  Dr.  Johnson  lay  dying,  had  been  that  of  the  muse. 
Sir  Walter  Scott  included  one  of  his  lyrics  in  a  published 
collection.^     He  diversified  his  stern  by  lighter  labours,  and 

1  Rogers  is  mentioned  in  the  very  young  Disraeli's  Infernal 
Marriage — "  The  Pleasures  of  Oblivion.  The  poet,  apparently,  is  fond  of 
his  subject." 

2  He  lost  his  life  in  restoring  Ely  Cathedral.  Redesigned  a  portion  of 
Belgrave  Square.  When  Disraeli  was  at  last  returned  to  Parliament,  he 
wrote  to  his  sister,  "  So  much  for  Uncle  G.  and  his '  maddest  of  mad  acts.' " 

3  He  mentions  several  less  familiar  among  the  ancients.  For  instance, 
John  of  Padua  in  Endyniion. 

*  In  a  letter  of  the  late  'forties  to  his  sister,  he  says  with  surprise 
that  Croker  (who  disclaimed  having  read  it)  should  have  greeted  him  with 
effusion.  In  the  same  correspondence  he  repeats  a  7not  that  the  two 
most  disgusting  things  in  life — because  you  cannot  deny  them — are 
Warrender's  wealth,  and  Croker's  talents. 

'  When  they  met,  Sir  Walter  treated  him  with  cordiality  ;  neverthe- 
less, in  one  of  his  late  letters  he  styles  him  "  iin  vieiix  crapaud'' 


2  70  DISRAELI 

his  novels,  long  since  mouldered,  caused  some  stir  and  attracted 
sympathy.  After  the  romance  of  his  early  failures  and  the 
surprise  of  his  early  success,  he  set  himself  patiently  down  to 
work  for  ten  years  before  he  would  print  another  line.  His 
own  father,  who  never  understood  but  always  humoured  him, 
was  a  man  of  business,  sanguine  and  prompt,  yet  gay  and 
nonchalant,  who  lost  fortunes  and  regained  them.^  Disraeli 
the  Younger  united  the  two  strains  of  his  father  and  of  his 
grandfather.     He  was  a  practical  dreamer. 

Isaac  Disraeli,  then,  gave  his  boy  an  opening  to  the 
literary  world.  Among  his  intimates  was  the  shrewd  solicitor, 
Mr.  Austin,  and  his  clever  young  wife,  a  literary  coquette  of 
talent,  the  aunt  of  the  future  Sir  Henry  Layard,  the  tran- 
scriber of  Vivian  Grey.  Her  salon  was  frequented,  among 
others,  by  the  Hooks  ^  and  the  Mathews.  With  the 
Austins  young  Disraeli  journeyed  in  Italy  and  Germany. 
From  his  father's  library  he  thus  emerged  on  a  larger  world. 
But  he  soon  outstepped  its  bounds.  After  his  long  Eastern 
travels  with  Clay,  and  Meredith ^  affianced  to  Disraeli's  sister 
— a  voyage  on  which  Byron's  Tita  became  Disraeli's  valet,  and 
on  which  he  encountered  the  most  opposite  types  as  well  as 
some  curious  adventures* — his  own  first  books  made  him  the 
lion  of  several  seasons.  He  and  Bulwer  divided  the  honours 
of  Bath,  then  still  fashionable.  Lyndhurst  grew  to  depend  on 
his  assistance,  and  even  advice  ;  Disraeli  escorted  him  when 
as  Chancellor  he  was  present  at  Kensington  at  the  accession 
of  Queen  Victoria  ;  Lyndhurst's  daughter  became  an  associate 
of  Disraeli's  sister  ;  and  nothing  gave  Disraeli  more  unfeigned 
pleasure  than  the  visits  of  Lyndhurst  and  Bulwer  to  his  father 
at  Bradenham. 

He  not  only  wrote  novels,  pamphlets,  and  sonnets  (his 

1  In  1 76 1  he  was  even  bankrupt.  Cf.  British  Museum  Add.  MS. 
36,191,  f.  8. 

'^  Theodore  Hook  is  the  original  of  "  Lucian  Gay ''  in  Coningsby. 

3  His  acquaintance  seems  to  have  been  made  through  "  Platonist 
Taylor,"  who  gave  hterary  symposia. 

*  In  Spain  he  rescued  a  lady  from  robbers.  On  the  ^gean  he  armed 
and  drilled  the  crew  against  pirates.  In  Palestine,  with  difficulty  and 
courage,  he  forced  his  way  into  the  Mosque  of  Omar.  In  Egypt  a  pacha 
asked  him  to  draft  a  constitution. 


SOCIETY  271 

vain  ambition  was  to  revolutionise  poetry),  but  he  seems  to 
have  contributed  to  the  Edmbiirgh  Review  as  well  as  to 
many  magazines.  In  1833,  as  has  been  noticed,  he  corre- 
sponded with  its  editor,  Napier,  with  a  view  to  a  "  slasher  " 
on  Morier's  "  Zohrab,"  which  had  been  puffed  in  the  Quarterly. 
Of  the  book  he  remarks,  "A  production  in  every  respect 
more  contemptible  I  have  seldom  met  with  ; "  and  of  the 
puff,  "  This  is  what  comes  of  putting  a  tenth-rate  novelist  at 
the  head  of  a  great  critical  journal."  ^ 

Then  followed  Gore  House,  with  its  high  Bohemian  wits, 
its   low  Bohemian  buffoons,  its  loose  celebrities,  its  "  man  of 
destiny,"    Louis  Napoleon  ;    its  laughter   and   its  tears  ;    its 
VVatteau-like  parterres,  and  the  generous,  erring  Egeria  of 
the   grot.2     Then,  too,   came   that  fascinating   circle   of  the 
Sheridans,  which  united  sparkling  talent  to  entrancing  beauty 
in  extraordinary  charm.     But  then  also  came  the  duller  round 
of  High  Mayfair — the  Londonderrys  and   the  Buckinghams. 
Among  diplomatists  at  this  period  he  knew  Pozzo.     He  had 
seen,  or  met,  or  known  the  fathers  or  grandfathers  of  most  of 
the  aristocracy  which,  forty  years  afterwards,  he  was  to  lead. 
Resolved  from  the  first,  as  he  said  in  an  early  letter,  "to 
respect  himself,  the  only  way  to  make  others  respect  you  ; " 
an  outrageous  dandy;  sometimes  in  deplored  debt,  often  in 
surmounted   scrapes,  always  in   good   humour,  he    had  sur- 
veyed the  whole  kaleidoscope  of  society,  artificial  as  well  as 
natural,  before,  or  soon  after,  he  turned  thirty  years  of  age  ; 
from  the  pachas  and  intriguers  of  the  East,  to  the  leaders  and 
amusers  of  the  West ;  from  Ali  and  the  governors,  admirals,  and 
garrisons  of  Malta  and  Gibraltar,  to  solemn  busy-bodies  in 
and  out  of  place  ;  the  fops  and  flutterers  in  and  out  of  society  ; 
men  famous  who  were  destined  to  obscurity,  men  obscure  who 
were  vowed  to  fame  ;    eccentrics   and  platitudinarians  ;   the 
Upper  Ten — "the  two  thousand  Brahmins  who  constitute  the 

'  Cf.  British  Museum  Add.  MS.  34,616,  f.  45.  I  have  referred  to  this 
in  Chapter  I. 

-  "  Sure  you  were  to  find  yourself  surrounded  by  celebrities,  and  men 
were  welcomed  there  if  they  were  clever,  before  they  were  famous,  which 
showed  it  was  a  house  that  regarded  intellect,  and  did  not  seek  merely 
to  gratify  its  vanity  by  being  surrounded  by  the  distinguished." 
— Coningsby. 


2  72  DISRAELI 

world " — and  the  lower  ten  thousand  ;  from  the  eccentric 
Urquhart  to  "  L.  E.  L.,"  "the  Sappho  of  Brompton,"  and,  it 
would  seem,  Davison  the  future  musical  critic.  An  early 
letter,  probably  addressed  to  him,  lies  before  me.  It  may  be 
of  passing  interest  to  subjoin  it : — 

"  My  dear  Davison, 

"  I  am  very  vexed  that  I  missed  you  this  morning. 
1  arrived  in  town  to-day,  and  am  now  living  the  vie  solitaire  in 
Bloomsbury.  Will  you  come  and  ameliorate  a  bachelor's 
torments  by  partaking  of  his  goblet  ? 

"  I  am  alone,  as  Ossian  says,  but  luckily  not  upon  the 
hill  of  storms. 

"  Instead  of  that  catch-cold  situation,  a  good  fireside  will 
greet  you. 

"  Mind  you  come. 

"Yours  ever, 

'•  B.  Disraeli." 
"  Excuse  scrawl,  etc.     6  o'clock." 

The  society  of  those  days  still  retained  much  of  the 
Regency's  tinsel.  It  glittered  far  more  than  it  shone.  Society 
was  not  then  quite  the  Dresden  china  shop  with  porcelain 
figures  of  beaux  and  boxers,  of  topers  and  bull-dogs,  of  satyrs 
and  nymphs,  of  city  swains  and  simpering  shepherdesses, 
that  it  had  been  ten  or  fifteen  years  before.  Byron,  with  his 
savage  sincerity,  may  be  said  to  have  dashed  that  smooth 
farrago  to  fragments.  But  it  remained  a  society  of  veneer 
and  affectation.  It  was  a  less  natural  age  than  our  own,  with 
fewer  ideals  and  less  outward  movement.  It  was  a  more 
boisterous  age  than  our  own  ;  public  opinion  exercised  far  less 
pressure.  It  was  at  once  a  coarser,  a  more  sentimental  and  a 
more  romantic,  if  a  more  bombastic  age  than  ours.  There 
still  lingered  the  curiosity  of  Dr.  Johnson's  age  for  the  tittle- 
tattle  of  voyagers  and  the  curiosities  of  barbarism.  But  it 
was  not  in  the  main  a  more  material  age,  or,  under  the 
surface,  a  much  more  selfish  one.  Sympathy  was  local  then. 
"  The  people  were  only  half  born."  It  was,  however,  certainly 
a  generation  far  more  fastidious  and  exclusive  ;  and  at  the 
same  time  it  was  certainly  more  appreciative  of  genius.     You 


SOCIETY  273 

could  then  appeal  to  the  few  where  you  cannot  now  appeal  to 
the  many  ;  for  the  few  then  had  neither  the  narrowness  of  the 
botirgeoisie  nor  the  unlimited  appetite  of  the  million. 

"  The  invention,"  smiles  Disraeli  so  early  as  in  his  mock- 
classical  squib,  The  Infernal  Marriage,  "  by  Jupiter  of  an 
aristocratic  immortality,  as  a  reward  for  a  well-spent  life  on 
earth,  appears  to  me  to  have  been  a  very  ingenious  idea.  It 
really  is  a  reward  very  stimulative  of  good  conduct  before  we 
shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil,  and  remarkably  contrasts  with  the 
democracy  of  the  damned.  The  Elysians,  with  a  splendid 
climate,  a  teeming  soil,  and  a  nation  made  on  purpose  to  wait 
upon  them,  of  course  enjoyed  themselves  very  much.  .  .  . 
The  Elysians,  indeed,  being  highly  refined  and  gifted  .  .  . 
were  naturally  a  very  liberal-minded  race  and  very  capable  of 
appreciating  every  kind  of  excellence.  If  a  gnome,  or  a 
sylph,  therefore,  in  any  way  distinguished  themselves,  .  .  . 
aye !  indeed,  if  the  poor  devils  could  do  nothing  better  than 
write  a  poem  or  a  novel,  they  were  sure  to  be  noticed  by  the 
Elysians,  who  always  bowed  to  them  as  they  passed  by,  and 
sometimes,  indeed,  even  admitted  them  into  their  circles." 

What  Disraeli  detested  was  what  he  termed,  even  in 
Vivian  Grey,  "  society  on  anti-social  principles"  What  he  liked 
was  a  distinct  and  distinctive  circle,  interchanging  its 
ideas — "  free  trade  in  conversation."  In  his  social,  as  in  his 
political  outlook,  he  craved  inclusiveness  on  the  basis  of 
excellence,  and  not  either  the  restrictedness  of  a  caste  or  the 
miscellany  of  a  multitude.  In  this  sense  all  society  should  be 
"  aristocratic."  And  he  always  felt  that,  as  a  rule,  it  was 
precisely  the  middle-class  element,  contrasted  either  with 
those  who  inherited  the  finer  perceptions  of  breeding  or 
with  those — the  gallery — born  with  perceptive  instincts — that 
is  in  the  main  deficient  in  these  respects.  "...  The  stock- 
brokers' ladies  took  off  the  quarto  travels  and  the  hot-pressed 
poetry.  They  were  the  patronesses  of  your  patent  ink  and 
your  wire-wove  paper.  That  is  all  past.  .  .  ."  ^  What  he 
disrelished  was  the  meaner  sort  of  mediocrity,  except  when  it 
was  unassuming  and  useful. 

"  High    breeding   and    a   good    heart,"    he    demands    in 
'    Vivian  Grey. 
T 


274  DISRAELI 

Lothair  for  the  "perfect  host."  "To  throw  over  a  host,"  he 
has  also  written,  "  is  the  most  heinous  of  social  crimes.  It 
ought  never  to  be  pardoned.  ..."  "...  She,  too,"  he  says 
of  the  Duchess  in  Coningsby — who  "  was  one  of  the  delights  of 
existence," — "  was  distinguished  by  that  perfect  good  breeding 
which  is  the  result  of  nature  and  not  of  education  ;  for  it  may 
be  found  in  a  cottage  and  may  be  missed  in  a  palace.  'Tis 
a  genial  regard  for  the  feelings  of  others  that  springs  from  the 
absence  of  selfishness.  .  .  .  Nothing  in  the  world  could  have 
induced  her  to  appear  bored  when  another  was  addressing 
or  attempting  to  amuse  her.  She  was  not  one  of  those  vulgar 
fine  ladies  who  meet  you  one  day  with  a  vacant  stare,  as  if 
unconscious  of  your  existence,  and  address  you  on  another  in 
a  tone  of  impertinent  familiarity."  "  This  is  a  lesson  for  you 
fine  ladies,"  says  "Egremont"  in  Sybil,  "who  think  you  can 
govern  the  world  by  what  you  call  your  social  influences  ; 
asking  people  once  or  twice  a  year  to  an  inconvenient  crowd 
in  your  house  ;  now  haughtily  smirking,  and  now  impertinently 
staring  at  them,  and  flattering  yourselves  all  this  time  that  to 
have  the  occasional  privilege  of  entering  your  saloons,  and  the 
periodical  experience  of  your  insolent  recognition,  is  to  be  a 
reward  for  great  exertions,  or,  if  necessary,  an  inducement 
to  infamous  tergiversation."  And,  indeed,  the  "  Zenobia  "  of 
Endymion,  who  was  Lady  Jersey,  did  sometimes  condescend 
to  practise  these  shifts  of  political  ambition. ^  But  in  high 
society  with  low  standards,  there  were  worse  depths  than 
the  backstairs  patronage  of  party  recruits.  "  Never,"  as 
the  fine  sentence  prefixed  to  Sybil  recalls,  "were  so  many 
gentlemen,  and  so  little  gentleness."  The  contemptuous 
materialism  of  "  Monmouth  House,"  the  elegant  indifference 
of  "  Lord  Eskdale,"  around  which  revolve  the  satellites  and 
parasites,  social  and  political — the  folks  that  made  Selwyn 
exclaim  when  a  great  nobleman's  golden  dinner-service  was 

^  He  liked  to  descant  on  the  fast-fading  and  now  vanished  pohtical 
Salon.  That  of  "  Lady  St.  Julians,"  who  "  was  not  likely  to  forget  her 
friends,"  will  be  recalled  by  perusers  of  Sybil.  In  a  Glasgow  speech — 
recently  revived  by  an  evening  journal — he  praised,  with  admiration, 
Lady  Palmerston's,  where  diplomatists,  at  loggerheads  with  the  minister, 
could  meet  him  in  the  neutral  zone  of  his  gifted  wife's  catholic  hospitahty. 


SOCIETY  275 

up  to  auction — "  Lord,  how  many  toads  have  eaten  off  this 
plate  !  " 

"  Among  the  habitual  dwellers  "  (this  from  Coningsby)  "  in 
these  delicate  halls  there  was  a  tacit  understanding,  a  preva- 
lent doctrine,  that  required  no  formal  exposition,  no  proofs 
and  illustrations,  no  comment,  and  no  gloss,  which  was, 
indeed,  rather  a  traditional  conviction  than  an  impartial 
dogma — that  the  exoteric  public  were,  on  many  subjects,  the 
victims  of  very  vulgar  prejudice,  which  these  enlightened 
personages  wished  neither  to  disturb  nor  to  adopt."  "  Society," 
he  said,  alluding  to  its  treatment  of  Byron  in  Venetia,  "  is 
all  passions  and  no  heart."  In  Vivian  Grey  (as  to  the  circum- 
stances of  which  I  shall  say  something  in  my  last  chapter)  the 
father  (that  is,  Disraeli's  father)  thus  admonishes  the  boyish  son. 

"...  You  are  now  inspecting  one  of  the  worst  portions 
of  society  in  what  is  called  the  great  world  (St.  Giles'  is  bad, 
but  of  another  kind),  and  it  may  be  useful,  on  the  principle 
that  the  actual  sight  of  brutal  ebriety  was  supposed  to  have 
inspired  youth  with  the  virtue  of  temperance.  .  .  .  Let  me 
warn  you  not  to  fall  into  the  usual  error  of  youth,  in  fancying 
that  the  circle  you  move  in  is  precisely  the  world  itself.  Do 
not  imagine  that  there  are  not  other  beings,  whose  benevolent 
principle  is  governed  by  finer  sympathies,  and  by  those  nobler 
emotions  which  really  constitute  all  our  public  and  private 
virtues.  I  give  you  this  hint,  lest,  in  your  present  society, 
you  might  suppose  these  virtues  were  merely  historical." 
Speaking  of  "  Vivian  Grey "  under  the  guise  of  "  Contarini 
Fleming's "  first  novel,  Disraeli  makes  his  hero  ejaculate : 
"  All  the  bitterness  of  my  heart,  occasioned  by  my  wretched 
existence  among  their  false  circles,  found  its  full  vent.  Never 
was  anything  so  imprudent.  Everybody  figured,  and  all 
parties  and  opinions  alike  suffered."  Still  more  did  he 
despise  "  the  insolence  of  the  insignificant." 

What  he  admired  in  whatever  form — even  when  incom- 
patible with  society — was  purpose  with  personality.  This  is 
manifest  in  all  his  early  novels,  conspicuous  in  his  later  ones. 
The  two  heroes  of  Venetia — Byron  and  Shelley^— are  portrayed 
'  "  Great  as  might  have  been  the  original  errors  of  Herbert  .  .  .  they 
might,  in  the  first  instance,  be  traced  rather  to  a  perverted  view  of 
society  than  of  himself." 


276  DISRAELI 

from  this  point  of  view.  Even  the  hysterical  purpose  of  Lady 
Caroline  Lamb  in  the  person  of  "  Lady  Monteagle"  is  recog- 
nised ;  and  of  Byron  he  causes  his  characters  to  speak  in 
Vivian  Grey  :  "  There  was  the  man  !  And  that  such  a  man 
should  be  lost  to  us  at  the  very  moment  that  he  had  begun 
to  discover  why  it  had  pleased  the  Omnipotent  to  have 
endowed  him  with  such  powers  !  " — "  If  one  thing  were  more 
characteristic  of  Byron's  mind  than  another,  it  was  his  strong, 
shrewd  common  sense,  his  pure,  unadulterated  sagacity," — 
"  The  loss  of  Byron  can  never  be  retrieved.  He  was  indeed 
a  real  man ;  and,  when  I  say  this,  I  award  him  the  most 
splendid  character  which  human  nature  need  aspire  to."  ^ 
The  very  intellectual  purpose  of  comparative  purposelessness, 
of  dilettante  taste,  attracted  him.  This  is  how  he  addresses 
"Luttrell"  in  The  Yowig  Duke :  "...  Teach  us  that  wealth 
is  not  elegance,  that  profusion  is  not  magnificence,  and  that 
splendour  is  not  heart.  Teach  us  that  taste  is  a  talisman 
which  can  do  greater  wonders  than  the  millions  of  the  loan- 
monger.  Teach  us  that  to  vie  is  not  to  rival ;  and  to  imitate 
not  to  invent.  Teach  us  that  pretension  is  a  bore.  Teach  us 
that  wit  is  excessively  good-natured,  and,  like  champagne, 
not  only  sparkles,  but  is  sweet.^  Teach  us  the  vulgarity  of 
malignity.  Teach  us  that  envy  spoils  our  complexions,  and 
that  anxiety  destroys  our  figure.  Catch  the  fleeting  colours 
of  that  sly  chameleon.  Cant,  and  show  what  excessive  trouble 
we  are  ever  taking  to  make  ourselves  miserable  and  silly. 
Teach  us  all  this,  and  Aglaia  shall  stop  a  crow  in  its  course, 
and  present  you  with  a  pen,  Thalia  hold  the  golden  fluid 
in  a  Sevres  vase,  and  Euphrosyne  support  the  violet-coloured 
scroll." 

So,  too,  the  energetic  personality  of  D'Orsay  aroused  his 
enthusiastic  friendship,  and  drew  from  him,  some  twenty 
years  after  that  ambrosial  figure  had  vanished,  the  tribute  of 
"...  the  most  accomplished  and  the  most  engaging  cha- 
racter that  has  figured  in  this  century,  who,  with  the  form  and 

^  Byron  also  figures  in  Ixio7i.  "  All  is  mystery,  and  all  is  gloom,  and 
ever  and  anon,  from  out  the  clouds  a  star  breaks  forth  and  glitters,  and 
that  star  is  Poetry." 

2  This  recalls  us  to  the  'thirties.  In  a  letter  to  his  sister  he  mentions 
the  wineglass  shape  as  a  new  receptacle  for  champagne. 


SOCIETY  277 

universal  genius  of  an  Alcibiades,  combined  a  brilliant  wit  and 
a  heart  of  quick  affection,  and  who,  placed  in  a  public  position, 
would  have  displayed  a  courage,  a  judgment,  and  a  com- 
manding intelligence  which  would  have  ranked  him  among 
the  leaders  of  mankind."  D'Orsay  speaks  and  acts  to  the  life 
as  "  Count  Mirabel "  in  The  Young  Duke.  And,  in  a  too 
unfamiliar  passage  of  The  Young  Duke,  he  thus  also  embalms, 
I  fancy,^  the  memory  of  Lady  Blessington's  maligned  charm 
under  the  veil  of  "  Lady  Aphrodite." 

"...  We  are  not  of  those  who  set  themselves  against 
the  verdict  of  society,  or  ever  omit  to  expedite,  by  a  gentle 
kick,  a  falling  friend.  And  yet,  when  we  just  remember 
beauty  is  beauty,  and  grace  is  grace,  and  kindness  is  kind- 
ness, although  the  beautiful,  the  graceful,  and  the  amiable 
do  get  in  a  scrape,  we  don't  know  how  it  is,  we  confess 
it  is  a  weakness,  but,  under  these  circumstances,  we  do  not 
feel  quite  inclined  to  sneer.  But  this  is  wrong.  We  should 
not  pity  or  pardon  those  who  have  yielded  to  great 
temptation,  or,  perchance,  great  provocation.  Besides,  it  is 
right  that  our  sympathies  should  be  kept  for  the  injured." 
Endeavour  and  individuality  he  reverenced  and  recognised. 
Tact,  the  charity  of  manners,  he  admired.^  But  for  aim- 
lessness,  whether  callous  or  random,  whether  patrician  or 
plebeian — whether  of  "  Lord  Marney,"  who  said  to  "  Egre- 
mont,"  "  I  am  your  elder  brother,  sir,  whose  relationship  to 
you  is  your  only  claim  to  the  consideration  of  society,"  and 
was  answered,  "  A  curse  on  the  society  that  has  fashioned 
such  claims  .  .  .  founded  on  selfishness,  cruelty,  and  fraud, 
and  leading  to  demoralisation,  misery,  and  crime ; "  or  of 
"  Rigby,"  who  called  his  record  in  Debrett  of  the  marriage 
successfully  schemed  for  his  patron,  "  a  great  fact."  To  such  as 
these  he  gave  no  quarter ;  and  he  scalped  them  with  a  wit 
and  an  irony  that  has  rarely  been  equalled. 

'  It  may,  however,  refer  to  a  certain  Lady  Sykes. 

2  There  is  another  similar  passage  so  early  as  in  Popanilla,  which 
says  that  "...  there  were  those  who  paradoxically  held  all  this  Elysian 
morality  was  one  of  great  delusion,  and  that  this  scrupulous  anxiety  about 
the  conduct  of  others  arose  from  a  principle,  not  of  Purity,  but  Corruption 
The  woman  who  is  "  talked  about,"  these  sages  would  affirm,  is  generally 
virtuous.  ..."     But  the  allusion  may  here  be  to  Queen  Caroline. 


278  DISRAELI 

And  he  loved  startling  contrasts.  "  Whatever  they  did," 
he  says  in  TJic  Infernal  Marriage,  "  the  Elsyians  were  careful 
never  to  be  vehement."  Disraeli  liked  to  break  the  monotone 
of  society's  polished  surface  by  pronounced  and  original  types 
of  race,  of  class,  of  passion,  of  enterprise  ;  the  Roman  among 
the  EuropeanAmcricans,  the  Arabian,  the  Syrian,  the  Greek, 
the  Gaul  among  the  Franks.  He  revelled  in  romantic  women, 
muses,  or  prophetesses,  who  lead  forlorn  movements,  or  rally 
broken  fortunes  ;  in  men  whom  they  cheer  and  kindle ;  in 
public  spirits ;  in  sudden  and  unexpected  revolutions  of 
fortune,  and  sudden  and  unforeseen  revelations  of  character. 
To  himself  in  his  first  youth  might  adhere  the  phrase  with 
which  he  then  labelled  "  Popanilla : "  "  He  looked  the  most 
dandified  of  savages,  and  the  most  savage  of  dandies."  He 
liked  to  pit  the  Bohemian  against  the  noble,  and  the  valet 
against  the  hero  ;  the  "  light  children  of  dance  and  song " 
against  their  heavy  patrons  ;  to  display  the  power  of  career 
even  in  the  lodginghouse-keeper's  daughter;  to  depict  the 
aristocracy  of  the  master  working  man  ;  to  analyse  and 
contrast  the  ironies  of  the  struggle,  the  social  tragedy  of 
illusion,  and  the  social  farce  of  fashion.  "...  'Your  mind 
is  opening,  Ixion,'  "  says  Mercury,  in  that  brilliant  skit  which 
Disraeli  penned  before  he  was  celebrated  ;  " '  you  will  soon  be 
a  man  of  the  world.  To  the  left,  and  keep  clear  of  that  star ' — 
'  Who  lives  there  ? ' — '  The  Fates  know,  not  I.  Some  low 
people  who  are  trying  to  shine  into  notice.  'Tis  a  parvenu 
planet,  and  only  sprung  up  into  space  within  this  century. 
We  don't  visit  them.'  "  "  Sybil "  herself,  it  should  be  re- 
membered, is  an  aristocrat  born,  but  not  bred,  while  half 
"  Egremont's  "  Norman  relations  are  cads  or  snobs. 

He  loved,  too,  society's  foibles — to  hit  off  the  precocious 
wiseacres  of  the  golden  youth.  "...  A  young  fellow  of  two- 
or  three-and-twenty  knows  the  world  as  men  used  to  do  after 
as  many  years  of  scrapes.  I  wonder  whether  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  a  greenhorn  ?  Effie  Crabbs  says  the  reason  he  gives 
up  his  house  is  that  he  has  cleaned  out  the  old  generation,  and 
that  the  new  generation  would  clean  him."  ^  To  banter  "  those 
uncommonly  able  men  who  only  want  an  opportunity,"  the 
^  Coningsby. 


SOCIETY  279 

philosophers  and  the  puppies  ;  to  jest,  as  he  does  in  Popanilla, 
at  legal  fictions ;  to  poke  fun  at  the  "  great  orator,  before  a 
green  table,  beating  a  red  box,"  or  the  prattlers  on  science 
in  "gilded  saloons;"  to  depict  the  pyramidal  selfishness 
but  unruffled  pride  of  Lord  Hertford  in  "Lord  Monmouth" 
— Thackeray's  "  Lord  Steyne ; "  to  chronicle  the  paean  of 
"  Mrs.  Guy  Flouncey  " — a  precursor  of  "  Becky  Sharp  " — when 
she  wins  the  invitation  to  the  great  house  :  "  My  dear,  we 
have  done  it  at  last !  "  or  those  whose  sinnmiun  boninn  is  to 
have  ten  thousand  a  year  and  be  thought  to  have  five  ;  or 
those  waiters  on  dying  Mammon,  who,  when  the  will  is 
read,  "all  become  orderly  and  broken-hearted;"  or  the 
bored  good  humour  of  the  Radical  noble,  who  was  almost  a 
Communist  except  as  regarded  land — "  as  if  a  fellow  could 
have  too  much  land  ; "  to  burlesque  the  whole  medley  of  blue 
bores  and  bore-blues,  of  red-tape,  and  peas-on-drums,  the 
Jacks-in-ofiice  and  the  Jacks-in-boxes,  of  "nobs  and  snobs," 
of  "  statesmen,  fiddlers,  and  buffoons."  But  it  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  he  ever  kept  a  warm  place  in  his  heart  for 
sailors,  whom  he  regarded  as  among  the  most  natural  and 
delightful  of  mankind.^ 

""■  It  was  not  only  the  big  shams  and  little  follies  of  society 
that  revolted  or  amused  him.  He  held,  also,  that  melancholy 
and  dulness  were  social  crimes.  "  If  a  man  be  gloomy,  let 
him  keep  to  himself.  No  man  has  a  right  to  go  croaking 
about  society,  or,  what  is  worse,  looking  as  if  he  stifled  grief. 
These  fellows  should  be  put  in  the  pound.  We  like  a  good 
broken  heart  or  so  now  and  then  ;  but  then  one  should  retire 
to  the  Sierra  Morena  mountains  and  live  upon  locusts  and 
wild  honey,  not  dine  out  with  our  cracked  cores.  .  .  .  "^  And 
among  breaches  of  social  tact,  he  most  disliked  those  minor 
monomanias  which  make  the  bore.  "  Never,"  he  once  warned 
a  young  man,  "  discuss  *  The  Letters  of  Junius,'  or  '  The  Man 
in  the  Iron  Mask.'-*^  Some  of  his  happiest  conversations  are 
to  be  found  in  the  Lothair  colloquies  at  Muriel  Towers. 

Society  used  to  depend  on  conversation  much  more  than  it 
does  now,  when  there  is  so  much  hurry,  so  much  wealth,  so 
many  amusements,  so   little  privacy,  and  so  much  printed 
1    Vendia;  The  Voting  Duke.  "-  Ibid. 


28o  DISRAELI 

about  it  that  practically  there  is  no  compact  society  at  all — 
merely  a  touring  menagerie.  Disraeli,  in  one  of  his  earlier 
novels,^  has  an  excellent  essay  in  miniature  on  social 
conversation  : — 

"  The  high  style  of  conversation  where  eloquence  and 
philosophy  emulate  each  other,  ...  all  this  has  ceased.  It 
ceased  in  this  country  with  Johnson  and  Burke,  and  it  requires 
a  Johnson  and  a  Burke  for  its  maintenance.  There  is  no 
mediocrity  in  such  intercourse,  no  intermediate  character 
between  the  sage  and  the  bore.  The  second  style,  where 
men,  not  things,  are  the  staple,  but  where  wit  and  refinement 
and  sensibility  invest  even  personal  details  with  intellectual 
interest,  does  flourish  at  present,  as  it  always  must  in  a  highly 
civilised  society.  .  .  .  Then  comes  your  conversation  man, 
who,  we  confess,  is  our  aversion.  His  talk  is  a  thing  apart, 
got  up  before  he  enters  the  company  from  whose  conduct  it 
should  grow  out.  He  sits  in  the  middle  of  a  large  table, 
and,  with  a  brazen  voice,  bawls  out  his  anecdotes  about  Sir 
Thomas  or  Sir  Humphry,  Lord  Blank  or  Lady  Blue.  He 
is  incessant,  yet  not  interesting  ;  ever  varying,  yet  always 
monotonous.  Even  if  we  are  amused,  we  are  no  more 
grateful  for  the  entertainment  than  we  are  to  the  lamp  over 
the  table  for  the  light  which  it  universally  sheds,  and  to  yield 
which  it  was  obtained  on  purpose.  We  are  more  gratified  by 
the  slight  cojwersation  of  one  zuho  is  often  silent,  bnt  who  speaks 
from  his  momentary  feelings,  than  by  all  this  hullabaloo.  Yet 
this  machine  is  generally  a  favourite  piece  of  furniture  with 
the  hostess.  You  may  catch  her  eye,  as  he  recounts  some 
adventure  of  the  morning,  which  proves  that  he  not  only 
belongs  to  every  club,  but  goes  to  them,  light  up  with 
approbation  ;  and  then  when  the  ladies  withdraw,  and  the 
female  senate  deliver  their  criticism  on  the  late  actors,  she 
will  observe  with  a  gratified  smile  to  her  amfidante,  that  the 
dinner  went  off  well,  and  that  Mr.  Bellow  was  very  strong 
to-day.  All  this  is  horrid,  and  the  whole  affair  is  a  delusion. 
A  variety  of  people  are  brought  together,  who  all  come  as 
late  as  possible,  and  retire  as  soon,  merely  to  show  that  they 
have  other  engagements.  A  dinner  is  prepared  for  them, 
1  Ibid. 


SOCIETY  281 

which  is  hurried  over,  in  order  that  a  certain  number  of  dishes 
should  be— not  tasted,  but  seen.  And  provided  that  there 
is  no  moment  that  an  absolute  silence  reigns  ;  that,  besides 
the  bustling  of  the  servants,  the  clattering  of  the  plates  and 
knives,  a  stray  anecdote  is  told,  which,  if  good,  has  been 
heard  before,  and  which,  if  new,  is  generally  flat ;  provided 
a  certain  number  of  certain  names  of  people  of  consideration 
are  introduced,  by  which  some  stranger,  for  whom  the  party 
is  often  secretly  given,  may  learn  the  scale  of  civilisation  of 
which  he  this  moment  forms  a  part  ;  provided  the  senators 
do  not  steal  out  too  soon  to  the  House,  and  their  wives  to 
another  party — the  hostess  is  congratulated  on  the  success 
of  her  entertainment.'^  He  much  preferred  the  conversation 
of  "  Pinto,"  whose  raillery,  unremembered,  amused  and 
"  flattered  the  self-love  of  those  whom  it  seemed  sportively 
not  to  spare.  ,  .  .  He  was  not  an  intellectual  Croesus,  but  his 
pockets  were  full  of  sixpences."  But  then,  "  Pinto  "  did  not 
quite  belong  to  the  lower  social  stratum  above  characterised. 
That  Disraeli  had  not  altered  his  opinion  of  it  after  forty  years' 
immense  and  intimate  experience  is  shown  by  the  description 
in  LotJiair  of  the  "  reception  "  of  "  Mrs.  Putney  Giles."  Not 
that  Disraeli  by  any  means  inclined  to  the  "  call-a-spade-a- 
spade  "  view  of  conversation.  To  say  all  one  thought,  to 
be  rudely  frank,  would  destroy  social  converse.  "...  As 
Pinto  says,  if  every  man  were  straightforward  in  his  opinions, 
there  would  be  no  conversation.  The  fun  of  talk  is  to  find 
out  what  a  man  really  thinks,  and  then  contrast  it  with  the 
enormous  lies  he  has  been  telling  all  dinner,  and  perhaps 
all  his  life."  "Never  argue,"  he  once  wrote,  "and,  if  con- 
troversy arises,  change  the  subject."  And  he  also  recognised 
that  "  talk  to  man  about  himself,  and  he  will  listen  for  hours." 
"  All  women  are  vain,  some  men  are  not."  He  believed, 
too,  in  the  saying  of  Swift,  that  a  community  of  ailments  is 
a  fastener  of  friendship.  Once  when  an  intimate  asked  Lord 
Beaconsfield  what  he  did  when  his  acquaintanceship  was 
claimed  by  many  whose  faces  and  names  were  unfamiliar, 
but  who  professed  to  have  known  him  in  youth,  he  answered, 
"  I  always  say  one  thing — '  Quite  so,  quite  so !  and  how  is 
the  old  coviplaint  ? '  " 


282  DISRAELI 

I  have  said  that  in  his  youth  Disraeli  had  occasionally 
been  in  debt.^  No  one  ever  reprobated  it  more,  though  no 
one,  except  Goldsmith  and  Sheridan,  has  also  extracted  more 
humour  out  of  it,  as  is  attested  by  the  episode  of  "Mr. 
Levison  "  and  the  coals  in  Henrietta  Temple?  In  this  novel 
he  thus  moralises — 

"  If  youth  but  knew  the  fatal  misery  that  they  are  entailing 
on  themselves  the  moment  they  accept  a  pecuniary  credit 
to  which  they  are  not  entitled,  how  they  would  start  in 
their  career !  how  pale  they  would  turn  !  how  they  would 
tremble,  and  clasp  their  hands  in  agony  at  the  precipice  on 
which  they  are  disporting.  Debt  is  the  prolific  mother  of 
folly  and  of  crime  ;  it  taints  the  course  of  life  in  all  its  dreams. 
Hence  so  many  unhappy  marriages,  so  many  prostituted  pens 
and  venal  politicians.  It  hath  a  small  beginning,  but  a  giant's 
growth  and  strength.  When  we  make  the  monster  we  make 
our  master,  who  haunts  us  at  all  hours,  and  shakes  his  whip 
of  scorpions  forever  in  our  sight.  The  slave  hath  no  overseer 
so  severe.  Faustus,  when  he  signed  the  bond  with  blood, 
did  not  secure  a  dream  more  terrific.  But  when  we  are  young 
we  must  enjoy  ourselves.  True  ;  and  there  are  few  things 
more  gloomy  than  the  recollection  of  a  youth  that  has  not 
been  enjoyed.  ..." 

He  was  never  a  gambler.  One  of  the  most  striking 
passages  of  Vivian  Grey  gives  the  story — which  would  make 
a  strong  play — of  a  man  in  high  place,  led  on  by  even  noble 
motives  to  game,  until  he  sharped  at  play,  and  was  rescued 

'  The  brilliant  Mr.  T.  P.  O'Connor,  in  the  first  edition  of  a  "  Bio- 
graphy "  (which,  perhaps,  now  he  regrets),  troub  ed  himself  jto  search  out 
and  enumerate  the  writs  out  against  Disraeli  in  the  early  'thirties.  Most 
of  his  debts  were  for  elections  and  "  backing  "  his  friends'  bills.  From 
friends  he  never  borrowed  ;  always  from  "  Levison's."  Vivian  Grey  was 
originally  written  to  defray  a  debt. 

2  Levison  joffers  the  required  advance,  ;^700  in  cash,  ^800  in  coals. 
The  captain  expostulates,  and  is  answered  :  "  Lord !  my  dear  Captin, 
^800  worth  of  coals  is  a  mere  no  think.  With  your  connection  you  will 
get  rid  of  them  in  a  morning.  All  you  have  got  to  do  ...  is  to  give 
your  friends  an  order  on  us,  and  we  will  let  you  have  cash  at  a  httle  dis- 
count. .  .  .  Three  or  four  friends  would  do  the  thing.  .  .  .  Why,  'tayn't 
four  hundred  chaldron,  Captin.  .  .  .  Baron  Squash  takes  ten  thousand 
of  us  every  year  ;  but  he  has  such  a  knack  ;  he  gits  the  clubs  to  take  them." 


SOCIETY  283 

from  disgrace  by  friendship  ;  and  in  The  Young  Duke  is  the 
thrilHng  romance  of  the  career  of  the  founder  of  Crockford's. 

The  Macaronis  were  replaced  by  the  Beaux  ;  the  Beaux 
in  their  turn  by  the  more  florid  Dandies  ;  until,  at  last,  in  the 
'seventies,  appeared  the  "  Swells,"  the  heavy,  if  grand,  Blunder- 
bores,  sworn  to  bachelor  indulgence,  who  thought  that  "  every 
woman  should  marry,  but  no  man,"  the  exception  only  being 
if  a  girl  sprang  from  "  an  affectionate  family,  with  good 
shooting  and  first-rate  claret."  Disraeli  was  interested  in 
the  "swells."  In  a  measure  he  had  created  them,  because 
he  had  reconciled  the  people  to  the  nobles,  and  the  "  swell " 
was  a  term  embodying  the  people's  homage.  But  in  this 
phase  Disraeli  saw  something  comic  and  barbaric.  "  St. 
Aldegonde,"  himself  a  gigantic  "  swell,"  could  not  bear  the 
"  swells."  When  he  met  them  he  described  them  as  "  a  social 
jungle  in  which  there  was  a  great  herd  of  animals." 

And  with  the  "  swells  "  began  something  of  that  "  free- 
and-easiness  "  which  hails  from  modern  Columbia,  and  has 
now  leavened  society  with  its  licence  and  its  slang.  "  Free- 
and-easiness  is  all  very  well,"  once  laughed  Disraeli  to  a 
friend,  "  but  why  not  be  a  little  freer  and  a  little  less  easy  'i " 
"  His  spirit,"  he  says  of  "  Coningsby,"  "  recoiled  from  that  gross 
famiharity  that  is  the  characteristic  of  modern  manners,  and 
which  would  destroy  all  forms  and  ceremonies,  merely  because 
they  curb  and  control  their  own  coarse  convenience  and  ill- 
disguised  selfishness."  With  the  "  swells  "  came  also  another 
social  change — the  diffusion  not  only  of  wealth,  but  of  taste. 
A  great  lady  assures  "  Lothair "  that  he  will  be  surprised  to 
see  so  many  well-dressed  and  good-looking  people  at  the 
opera,  that  he  never  beheld  before. 

Political  society  pervades  all  Disraeli's  novels.  Only  two 
phases  of  it  need  here  be  mentioned.  The  tiny  coteries  who 
dine  together  twice  a  week  and  "think  themselves  a  party." 
They  appear  in  Sybil ;  they  reappear  in  Endymion.  And  the 
breakfast  gatherings  of  the  'forties,  peculiar,  as  Disraeli  noted, 
to  Liberals.  "  It  shows  a  restless,  revolutionary  mind,"  mocks 
"  Lady  Firebrace,"  "  that  can  settle  to  nothing,  but  must  be 
running  after  gossip  the  moment  they  are  awake."  But  two  say- 
ings, not  directly  with  regard  to  society,  may  in  this  connection, 


284  DISRAELI 

however,  be  recorded.  Both  are  from  The  Yotmg  Duke. 
"...  He  was  always  offended  and  always  offending.  Such 
a  man  could  never  succeed  as  a  politician — a  character  who, 
of  all  others,  must  learn  to  endure,  to  forget,  and  to  forgive." 
The  second  was  prophetic :  "  One  thing  is  clear — that  a  man 
may  speak  very  well  in  the  House  of  Commons  and  fail  very 
completely  in  the  House  of  Lords.  There  are  two  distinct 
styles  requisite.  I  intend  in  the  course  of  my  career,  if  I 
have  time,  to  give  a  specimen  of  both.  In  the  Lower  House, 
'  Don  Juan '  may  perhaps  be  our  model ;  in  the  Upper  House, 
'  Paradise  Lost* " 

As  for  club  existence,  the  "lounging,  languid  men"  who 
spend  their  time  in  crossing  from  Brooks's  to  Boodle's  and 
from  Boodle's  to  Brooks's,"  has  he  not  characterised  "those 
middle-aged  nameless  gentlemen  of  easy  circumstances,  who 
haunt  clubs  and  dine  a  great  deal  at  each  others'  houses  and 
chambers  ;  men  who  travel  regularly  a  little,  and  gossip 
regularly  a  great  deal  ;  who  lead  a  sort  of  facile,  slipshod 
existence,  doing  nothing,  yet  mightily  interested  in  what 
others  do ;  great  critics  of  little  things  .  .  .  peering  through 
the  window  of  a  club-house  as  if  they  were  discovering  a 
planet "  .<*  And  as  for  civic  hospitality,  he  sums  it  up  best, 
perhaps,  in  the  Endyniion  epigram  :  "  Turtle  makes  all  men 
equal." 

He  felt  all  along  that,  after  all,  true  society  is  at  home, 
and  not  with  "  polished  ruffians  ; "  the  "  courtesy  of  the 
heart"  was  preferable  to  that  "of  the  head."  "My  idea 
of  perfect  society,"  says  "Lothair,"  "is  being  married,  as 
I  propose,  and  paying  visits  to  Brentham  ; "  or,  as  Disraeli 
varies  the  theme  in  the  same  novel,  "  I  am  fond  of  society 
that  pleases  me,  that  is  accomplished  and  natural  and  in- 
genious ;  otherwise  I  prefer  being  alone."  Home,  he  thought, 
should  be  the  centre  of  society,  and  a  homeless  society  was 
not  one  at  all.  It  is  very  noticeable,  in  comparing  present 
with  past  fiction,  how  the  English  sense  of  home  and  flicker 
of  the  fireside,  which  used  to  warm  every  page,  has  receded 
out  of  view  before  the  motor-speed  and  nervous  restlessness  of 
the  age.  His  home-fondness  was  touchingly  displayed  after 
the  death  of  his  wife  by  his  reply  to  a  friend,  who  asked  if  he 


SOCIETY  285 

were  driving  home — a  reply  accompanied  by  tears  ;  "  Home  ! 
I  have  no  home  nowy  Nor  did  any  great  man  ever  reserve 
the  sanctities  of  the  hearth  more  completely  from  a  prying 
public.  The  purity  of  his  home  affections  was  one  of  Mr. 
Gladstone's  notes  of  eulogy  in  the  funeral  oration  that  he 
delivered  in  the  House  to  which  Disraeli  had  been  proudly 
devoted  for  forty-five  long  years.  There  are  scores  of  sayings 
and  episodes  in  his  books,  from  Vivian  Grey  downwards, 
regarding  the  home  affections  ;  many  charming  touches,  too, 
in  his  letters  to  his  sister.  But  I  content  myself  with  one, 
from  Vetietia — 

J.\-.  .  After  all,  we  have  no  friends  that  we  can  depend 
upon  in  this  life  but  our  parents.  .  .  .  All  other  intimacies, 
however  ardent,  are  liable  to  cool ;  all  other  confidence,  how- 
ever limited,  to  be  violated.  In  the  phantasmagoria  of  life, 
the  friend  with  whom  we  have  cultivated  mutual  trust  for 
years  is  often  suddenly  or  gradually  estranged  from  us,  or 
becomes,  from  painful  yet  irresistible  circumstances,  even  our 
deadliest  foe.  As  for  women  .  .  .  the  mistresses  of  our 
hearts,  who  has  not  learnt  that  the  links  of  passion  are  fragile 
as  they  are  glittering  .?  .  .  .  Where  is  the  enamoured  face  that 
smiled  upon  our  early  love,  and  was  to  shed  tears  over  our 
grave  ?  ...  No  wonder  we  grow  callous,  for  how  {q.\n  have  the 
opportunity  of  returning  to  the  hearth  which  they  quitted  in 
levity  or  thoughtless  weariness,  yet  which  alone  is  faithful  to 
them  ;  whose  sweet  affections  require  not  the  stimulus  of 
prosperity  or  fame,  the  lure  of  accomplishments  or  the  tribute 
of  flattery,  but  which  are  constant  to  us  in  distress,  and  console 
us  even  in  disgrace  !  " 

I  ought,  perhaps,  to  add  a  word  of  Disraeli's  ideas  on  love 
and  marriage.  No  one  set  more  store  by,  or  laid  more  store 
on,  the  deciding  influence  of  woman  on  man's  career.  No 
one  recognised  more  heartily  a  woman's  instinctive  superiority 
to  logic.  How  good  is  the  humour  in  that  dressing-room 
scene  of  the  'seventies  in  Lothair  : — 

"...  The  gentlemen  of  the  smoking-room  have  it  not  all 
their  own  way  quite  as  much  as  they  think  If,  indeed,  a  new 
school  of  Athens  were  to  be  pictured,  the  sages  and  the 
students  might   be  represented    in  exquisite  dressing-gowns, 


286  DISRAELI 

with  slippers  rarer  than  the  lost  one  of  Cinderella,  and 
brandishing  beautiful  brushes  over  tresses  still  more  fair. 
Then  is  the  time  when  characters  are  never  more  finely  drawn, 
or  difficult  social  questions  more  accurately  solved ;  knowledge 
without  reasoning,  and  truth  without  logic — the  triumph  of  in- 
tuition! But  we  must  not  profane  the  mysteries  of  Bona  Dea." 
To  women,  moreover,  he,  like  "Coningsby,"  "instinctively 
bowed  as  to  beings  set  apart  for  reverence  and  delicate  treat- 
ment," but  disillusions  chequered  his  experience.  In  maturity 
he  could  undoubtedly  "conceive  that  there  were  any  other 
women  in  the  world  than  fair  Geraldines  and  Countesses  of 
Pembroke."  While  Lord  Randolph  Churchill  was  still  alive, 
a  young  man — now  an  eminent  Liberal  statesman,  and  then 
in  the  thick  of  a  passionate  courtship — poured  out  his  heart  to 
him  as  they  walked  home  together  from  the  House.  Lord 
Randolph  reminded  him  of  what  Disraeli  had  once  observed 
to  himself,  that  two  of  the  great  elements  in  life  were  passion 
and  power  ;  that  in  youth  the  first  prevailed,  but  that,  as  years 
proceeded,  the  last  proved  incomparable.  He  once  said  in 
his  early  youth  that  most  of  the  distinguished  men  of  his 
acquaintance  who  had  married  "  for  love  "  bullied  or  maltreated 
their  wives  ;  and  he  also  remarked  at  an  early  period  that  the 
man  who  wishes  to  rule  mankind  must  not  marry  a  too 
beautiful  wife,  who  would  divide  his  time  and  his  will.  Long 
afterwards,  in  the  devotion  of  his  home,  Mrs.  Disraeli  would 
rally  him  by  saying,  "  You  know  you  married  me  for  money, 
and  I  know  that  now,  if  you  had  to  do  it  again,  you  would 
marry  me  for  love."  It  will  be  recalled,  too,  that  "  Sidonia," 
though  he  had  a  heart,  indulged  his  deeper  emotions  more 
towards  causes  than  individuals.  "  In  his  organisation  there 
was  a  peculiarity,  perhaps  a  great  deficiency."  And  yet 
Disraeli  wrote  :  "  We  know  not  how  it  is,  but  love  at  first 
sight  is  a  subject  of  constant  ridicule,  but  somehow  we  suspect 
that  it  has  more  to  do  with  the  affairs  of  this  world  than  the 
world  is  willing  to  own." — "  Where  we  do  not  respect,  we  soon 
cease  to  love  ;  when  we  cease  to  love,  virtue  weeps  and  flies." 
I  think  that  real  love  as  the  base  of  marriage  is  more  genuinely, 
as  well  as  romantically,  portrayed  in  Venetia  that  in  any  of 
his  works.    In  those  pages  it  really  moves  us  instead  of  moving 


SOCIETY  287 

before  us,  as  it  often  does,  even  in  the  "  love  story "  of 
Henrietta  Temple.  One  of  his  early  hobbies,  too,  was  that 
men  ought  to  marry  early,  as  a  source  of  strength  and 
simplicity  both  to  the  affections  and  to  the  race.  This  is 
emphasised  in  Contarinl  Flemmg.  The  passage  is  striking, 
and  illustrates  his  deeper  ideas  on  the  whole  subject :  "  To 
a  man  who  is  in  love  the  thought  of  another  woman  is 
uninteresting,  if  not  repulsive.  Constancy  is  human  nature. 
"Instead  of  love  being  the  occasion  of  all  the  misery  of  this 
world,  as  is  sung  by  fantastic  bards,  /  believe  that  the  misery 
of  this  zvorld  is  occasioned  by  there  not  beijig  love  enough.  .  .  . 
Happiness  is  only  to  be  found  in  a  recurrence  to  the  principles 
of  human  nature,  and  these  will  prompt  very  simple  manners. 
For  myself,  I  believe  that  permanent  unions  of  the  sexes 
should  be  early  encouraged  ;  nor  do  I  conceive  that  general 
happiness  can  ever  flourish  but  in  societies  where  it  is  the 
custom  for  all  males  to  marry  at  eighteen.  This  custom,  I  am 
informed,  is  not  unusual  in  the  United  States  of  America, 
and  its  consequence  is  a  simplicity  of  manners  and  purity  of 
conduct  which  Europeans  cannot  comprehend,  but  to  ivhich  they 
must  ultimately  have  recourse.  Primeval  barbarism  and  extreme 
civilisation  must  arrive  at  the  same  results.  Men  under  these 
circumstances  are  actuated  by  their  structure  ;  in  the  first 
instance  instinctively,  in  the  second  philosophically.  At 
present^  we  are  all  in  the  various  gradations  of  the  inter- 
mediate state  of  corruption." 

At  all  events,  his  own  compositions  were  conspicuously 
spotless  ;  and  it  may  be  said  of  him,  as  it  was  of  Addison — so 
unlike  otherwise — "  No  whiter  page  remains." 

Such,  then,  are  some  of  Disraeli's  main  ideas  on  the 
outward  forms  and  inward  spirit  of  society.  Fashionable 
"  society  "  he  played  with,  and  he  used — it  amused  him  ;  but 
he  never  cherished,  rather  he  scorned  it.  Power  he  valued  ; 
and  fame — "the  opinion  of  mankind  after  death" — for  him 
meant  power.  There  was  once  a  certain  rather  fussy  Radical 
member  who  had  long  been  anxious  to  make  his  acquaintance. 
When  Lothair  appeared,  he  rushed  up  to  Disraeli  excitedly, 
with  many  apologies  for  the  intrusion,  and  begged  him  to 
*  It  was  written  1830-31, 


288  DISRAELI 

receive  the  assurance  of  his  daughter's  intense  admiration  for 
that  work.  "  Thank  you  ever  so  much,"  returned  Disraeli, 
"  and  this  is  fame  I " 

When  the  gorgeous  trinket  was  in  his  grasp,  and  he  was 
at  the  zenith  of  his  eminence,  I  have  already  recorded  an 
impressive  instance.  I  may  contrast  with  this  another  picture, 
also  of  a  fact  already  chronicled  in  the  interesting  recollections 
of  a  young  associate  of  his  old  age.  It  will  bear  repetition. 
The  scene  was  Hughenden  in  late  autumn,  the  time,  after 
Lady  Beaconsfield's  death.  He  sat  in  reverie  before  the  fire, 
watching  the  flickering  embers.  "  Dreams,  dreams,  dreams," 
he  murmured,  as  the  wreaths  of  smoke  and  the  sparks  of  flame 
went  upwards.  He  was  thinking  of  his  favourite  Sheridans, 
by  whose  own  fireside,  and  basking  in  whose  sunshine  of  wit 
and  beauty,  so  many  of  his  happiest  evenings  had  been  spent 
forty  years  agone.  And  perhaps,  also,  he  was  thinking  of  that 
charming  daughter  of  Lord  Lyndhurst,  whose  pet  name  tallied 
with  his  own  sister's  ;  and  possibly,  too,  of  that  little  Frances 
Braham,  whom  he  had  known  in  girlhood,  and  whom,  after 
she,  too,  had  carved  a  career,  he  still  knew  and  admired  as 
Frances,  Lady  Waldegrave. 

Yet  one  more  dissolving  view — 

The  scene  shifts  again  to  London  and  a  Foreign  Office 
reception,  with  its  gaping  throng.  It  was  the  last  function  that 
Lady  Beaconsfield,  frail  with  age  and  bent  with  rheumatism, 
was  able  to  attend.  Step  by  step,  all  the  way  down  that  long 
staircase,  he  himself  planted  her  feet  and  tenderly  supported 
her  feeble  frame,  till,  when  she  reached  the  end,  he  presented 
to  her  a  youth  of  promise,  since  a  member  of  ministries, 
who  will  still  remember  it. 

Yes,  it  was  companionship,  not  "  society,"  that  was  precious 
to  him.     And  trial  proves  friendship. 

"  '  Since  I  last  met  you,  I  heard  you  had  seen  much  and 
suffered  much.' — 'And  that  makes  the  kind  thoughts  of  friends 
more  precious.' — '  You  have,  however,  a  great  many  things 
which  ought  to  make  you  happy.' — '  I  do  not  deserve  to  be 
happy,  for  I  have  made  so  many  mistakes.  .  .  .' — '  Take  a 
brighter  and  a  nobler  view  of  your  life.  .  .  .  Feel  rather  that 
you  have  been  tried  and  not  found  wanting.'  " 


DISRAELI    IN    1852 
Aftcy  a  faindns  by  Sir  Francis  Grant,  P.R.A. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LITERATURE 

Wit,  HUiMOUR,  Romance 

WHATEVER  Disraeli  wrote  was  always  literature, 
and  never  lecture.  He  was  a  born  man  of  letters, 
and  Dickens  once  lamented  that  politics  had  so 
long  and  often  deprived  fiction  of  a  master. 

Disraeli  is  renowned  for  his  wit  ;  but  he  is  not  so 
generally  famed  for  two  qualities  in  which  he  excelled, 
though  with  limitations — his  subtle  sense  of  humour  and  his 
fine  feeling  for  the  picturesque  and  romantic. 

Like  his  own  "  Sidonia,"  Disraeli  "said  many  things  that 
were  strange,  yet  they  instantly  appeared  to  be  true  ;  "  like 
his  own  "Pinto,"  he  "had  the  art  of  viewing  common  things 
in  a  fanciful  light."  I  shall  notice  both  these  character- 
istics. He  believed  in  the  force  of  phrases  as  a  pollen,  so  to 
speak,  of  ideas  wafted  through  the  air ;  and  he  believed  in 
the  perpetual  miracles  of  existence.  His  favourite  English 
authors  were  the  romantics  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  wits 
of  Queen  Anne  and  the  Georges. 

It  was  once  said  that  wit  is  a  point,  but  humour  a  straight 
line.  This  epigram  is  inadequate.  Wit  is  no  risunii  of 
humour ;  the  two  qualities  differ  in  kind.  Wit  is  a  depart- 
ment of  style ;  and  style  is  gesture,  accent,  expression. 
Wit  is  the  faculty  of  combining  the  unlike,  by  the  language 
of  illustration,  suggestion,  and  surprise.  It  sums  up  characters, 
things,  and  ideas.  Like  misery,  "  it  yokes  strange  bedfellows," 
but  with  the  link  of  words  alone.  It  is  best  when  intellectually 
true,  but  its  requisite  is  fancy,  and  its  domain  expression. 
Humour,  on  the  other  hand,  is  an  exercise  of  perceptive 
sympathy  ;  it  is  the  faculty  of  discerning  the  incongruous, 
especially  of  human  nature,  in  the  visible  alone  ;  it  "  looks  on 

U  289  H- 


290  DISRAELI 

this  picture  and  on  that  ;  "  it  is  most  excellent  when  ethically 
sound,  but  its  essence  is  insight,  and  its  sphere,  situation. 

No  one  ever  heard  of  a  witty  picture,  or  a  humorous 
epigram.  We  laugh  at  humour,  whereas  at  wit  we  smile. 
Wit  is,  as  it  were,  Yorick  with  cap  and  bells  ;  but  humour 
unmasks  him  with  a  moral.  Popular  proverbs  are  the  wit  of 
the  people  ;  what  the  crowd  laughs  at  is  its  humour,  and  its 
humour  varies  in  different  countries  ;  but  the  standard  of  wit 
is  the  same  in  all  civilisations.  To  define  wit  and  humour 
would  require  both  qualities,  but,  if  I  were  to  try  my  hand,  I 
would  venture  to  call  wit,  mirth  turned  philosopher — humour, 
philosophy  at  play. 

Disraeli's  wit  is  at  root  arabesque.  Its  filagree  flourishes, 
like  the  ornaments  of  the  Alhambra,  are  supported  by  solid 
if  slender  pillars.  It  is  fanciful  grace  sustained  by  a  poised 
strength  ;  but  it  is  also  tempered  by  the  cheery,  if  sententious, 
cynicism  of  the  eighteenth  century,  in  which  he  had  steeped 
himself  from  childhood.  Its  source  was  racial ;  but  its  form 
and  colour  were  much  influenced  by  Pope,  Swift,  and  Voltaire. 
He  was  "  a  master  of  sentences."  He  delighted  to  condense 
thought,  as  it  were,  in  civilised  proverbs,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  let  his  terse  fancy  ^  embellish  it  with  subtle  and  airy 
flourishes.  His  paradoxes  are  almost  always  thought  in  a 
nutshell,  and  never  obscure  nonsense  in  a  clever  frame.  Of 
his  directer  wit,  a  good  instance  is  to  be  found  in  his  repartee 
to  the  crowd  at  his  early  Marylebone  election  :  "  On  what  do 
you  stand  ? "  "  My  head."  Or  his  remark  on  the  member 
who  solemnly  assured  the  House  that  he  "took  "  his  "  stand" 
on  "  progress."  "  It  occurred  to  me  that  progress  was  a 
somewhat  slippery  thing  to  take  one's  stand  on."  When  the 
late  Mr.  Beresford  Hope's  rather  turgid  remark  on  the  "golden 
image  set  up  on  the  sands  of  Arabia  "  provoked  Disraeli's 
famous  phrase,  its  accompaniment  was  equally  good.  He 
said  that  there  was  "  a  certain  prudery  "  about  the  honourable 
member's  eloquence  which   never  failed  to  fascinate.^     The 

'  This  quality  is  noticeable  in  his  descriptions  :  Jerusalem  at  noon — "  A 
city  of  stone  in  a  land  of  iron  with  a  sky  of  brass."  Seville — "Figaro  in 
every  street,  Rosina  on  every  balcony."     Cf.  p.  304. 

2  It  will  be  recalled  that  in  opposing  the  Burials  Bill,  which  he  treated 


LITERATURE  291 

great  Catholic  lady  who  received  her  guests  "  with  extreme 
unction  "  reminds  one  of  Horace  Walpole, 

Wit,  of  whatever  class,  is,  roughly  speaking,  twofold  in 
degree — lightning  wit  and  wit  lambent — the  wit  that  strikes 
sharply,  and  the  pleasantry  that  shines  around  its  object.  In 
the  first  Disraeli  excelled.  Like  his  own  Monsignor,  he 
"sparkles  with  anecdote  and  blazes  with  repartee."  His 
pages  bristle  with  good  things  ;  it  is  hard  to  choose.  Every 
one  remembers  his  political  retorts  and  his  literary  aphorisms. 
"  One  whom  I  will  not  say  that  I  respect,  but  rather  that  I 
regard."  Another,  "  Who  has  learned  much,  but  has  still  to 
learn  that  petulance  is  not  sarcasm,  nor  insolence  invective." 
The  "  conjuror  who  advances  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and 
for  hours  draws  yards  of  red  tape  from  his  mouth."  One 
quotation  against  Peel — "  Always  ready  with  his  Virgil " 
— that  of  the  Horatian  "  Vectabor  tunc  humeris  ;  "  and  "  Is 
England  to  be  governed  by  Popkins*  plan  .? "  "  Batavian 
Grace,"  "  Superior  Person,"  and  the  like.  Then  there  are  the 
drunken  recruits  "  full  of  spirit ; "  the  hansom,  the  "  gondola 
of  London  ; "  the  critics,  "  the  men  who  have  failed  ; "  ^ 
Tadpole's,  "  Tory  men  and  Whig  measures  ; "  and  Rigby's, 
"  little  words  in  great  capitals  " — these  are  household  words. 
"  Our  young  Queen,  and  our  old  institutions."  There  are 
Diplomatists,  "  the  Hebrews  of  politics  ;  "  St.  James's  Square, 
"  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  of  London  ;  "  the  "  bad  politician  " 
of  the  'thirties,  who  "  like  a  bad  shilling  has  worn  off  his  edge 
by  his  very  restlessness,"  and  the  enlightened  Whig  minister 
"  almost  eructating  with  the  plenary  inspiration  of  the  spirit  of 
the  age  ;  "  the  men  of  the  'seventies  who  "  played  with  billiard- 
balls  games  that  were  not  billiards,"  and  the  lady  of  the 
'forties  who  "sacrificed  even  her  lovers  to  her  friends  ;"  stolid 
bores,  our  "  Social  Polyphemi  ; "  books,  "  the  curse  of  the 
human  race  ; "  of  Austria,  "  two  things  made  her  a  nation,  she 

with  respect,  Disraeli,  after  expounding  the  parish  rights  in  the  churchyard, 
said,  "  I  must  confess  that,  were  I  a  Dissenter  contemplating  burial,  I 
should  do  so  with  feelings  of  the  utmost  satisfaction." 

'  Cf.  The  Infernal  Marriage— ^^ Kxq  there  any  critics  in  Hell?" 
"  Myriads,"  rejoined  the  ex-King  of  Lydia.  There  is  a  kindred  remark 
in  one  of  Landor's  Dialogues. 


292  DISRAELI 

was  German  and  she  was  a  Catholic,  and  now  she  is  neither  ; " 
of  the  Reform  Bill,  "  It  gave  to  Manchester  a  bishop  and  to 
Birmingham  a  dand)'."  And,  less  familiar,  there  is  "  Lord 
Squib's  "  definition  of  money  value,  "  very  dear  ;  "  "  Count 
Mirabel's"  pleasantry,  "coffee  and  confidence;"  "  Essper 
George's,"  "  Like  all  great  travellers,  I  have  seen  more  than  I 
remember,  and  remembered  more  than  I  have  seen  ; "  Venus, 
the  "  goddess  of  watering-places,"  and  "  Burlington  "  with 
"  his  old  loves  and  new  dances."  There  is  the  advice  in  The 
Young  Duke,  too,  that  "  good  fortune  with  good  management, 
no  country  house  and  no  children,  is  Aladdin's  lamp,"  and 
that  in  Lothair  to  "go  into  the  country  for  the  first  note  of 
the  nightingale  and  return  to  town  for  the  first  muffin  bell." 
Then  there  is  the  "  treatise  on  a  subject  in  which  everybody  is 
interested,  in  a  style  no  one  understands  ;  "  and  there  are  the 
French  actresses  averring  at  supper,  "  No  language  makes 
you  so  thirsty  as  French ; "  the  English  tradesmen  who 
"  console  themselves  for  not  getting  their  bills  paid  by  inviting 
their  customers  to  dinner  ;  "  the  Utilitarian,  whose  dogma  was 
"  Rules  are  general,  feelings  are  general,  and  property  should 
be  general  ; "  and  the  definition  of  Liberty,  "  Do  as  others 
do,  and  never  knock  men  down."  There  is  Monmouth's 
"some  woman  has  got  hold  of  him  and  made  him  a  Whig." 
There  is  the  great  political  lady  "who  liked  handsome 
people,  even  handsome  women  ;  "  and  there  is  the  unfortu- 
nate third-rate  statesman,  "who  committed  suicide  from  a 
want  of  imagination."  Nor  should  I  omit  an  unprinted  mot. 
He  defined  a  political  "  Deputation "  as  "  a  noun  of  multi- 
tude meaning  many,  but  not  signifying  much."  He  was 
wont  also  to  distinguish  between  "lawyers"  and  "legis- 
lators." A  brace  of  very  witty  similes  also  claim  a  mention 
here — the  comparison  of  the  Parliament-built  region  of  Harley 
Square  to  "  a  large  family  of  plain  children  with  Portland 
Place  and  Portman  Square  for  their  respectable  parents  ; " 
and  that  of  the  detached  breakfast-tables  at  "  Brentham,"  to 
"  a  cluster  of  Greek  or  Italian  Republics,  instead  of  a  great 
metropolitan  table,  like  a  central  government,  absorbing  all 
the  genius  and  resources  of  society.  Further,  in  the  same 
category  are  the  many  metaphorical  allusions  and  descriptions 


LITERATURE  293 

that  ornament  his  speeches.  The  transference  of  the  Bank 
currency  crisis  to  the  Neapolitan  procession  and  miracle 
of  St.  Januarius,  both  from  a  common  cause,  "congealed  cir- 
culation ; "  the  picture  of  a  maladroit  reinforcement  of  oppo- 
sition as  the  exploit  of  the  Turkish  Admiral,  summoned  by  the 
Sultan  and  blessed  by  the  muftis,  to  retrieve  the  war,  who  yet 
steered  his  imposing  fleet  right  into  the  enemy's  port  ;  and 
the  many  illustrations  from  Cervantes,  whose  irony  they  share. 

Then,  again,  there  are  those  terse  figurative  fancies  which 
belong  to  the  family  of  those  first  mentioned.  The  "  Midland 
Sea "  for  the  Mediterranean  ;  the  "  Western  minster "  for 
Westminster  Abbey  ;  the  "  dark  sex  "  for  man  ;  the  "  free- 
trader in  gossip "  for  the  bad  listener ;  the  "  confused 
explanations  and  explained  confusions,"  "  Stateswoman  "  ^ 
and  "  Anecdotage,"  which,  by-the-by,  is  a  phrase  of  Isaac 
Disraeli  derived  by  him  in  conversation  from  Rogers^ — all 
these  and  their  kindred  remind  us  that  he  was  the  son  of  an 
author  portrayed  by  him  as  sauntering  on  his  garden  terrace 
meditating  some  happy  phrase. 

Of  the  second — the  wit  of  sustained  sparkle  rather  than  of 
sudden  flashes — there  are  abundant  examples.  There  is  the 
passage  in  which  "  Lady  Constance "  in  Tancred  uncon- 
sciously ironises  evolution  in  her  criticism  of  a  pamphlet, 
"The  Revelations  of  Chaos."  There  is  the  lady's  reasoning 
on  the  Gulf  Stream  theory,  and  "  Lothair's "  retort,  "  You 
believe  in  Gulf  Stream  to  that  extent— no  skating,"  There 
is  the  pious  regret  that  a  boring  authoress  could  not  be 
married  to  the  author  of  "  The  Letters  of  Junius  "  and  "  have 
done  with  it ; "  and  the  pious  hope  that  the  Whigs  would  dis- 
franchise every  town  without  a  Peel  statue.  Then,  again, 
there  is  "  Herbert  "  in  Venetia. 

"  I  doubt  whether  a  man  at  fifty  is  the  same  material  being 
that  he  is  at  five-and-twenty." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Lord  Cadurcis,  "  if  a  creditor  brought  an 
action  against  you  at  fifty  for  goods  sold  and  delivered  at 
five-and-twenty,  one  could  set  up  the  want  of  identity  as  a 
plea  in  bar  ;  it  would  be  a  consolation  to  elderly  gentlemen," 

1  From  Swift,  however. 

'  See  his  "  Literary  Character  ;  or,  The  History  of  Men  of  Genius." 


294  DISRAELI 

And  to  go  back  to  an  even  earlier  date — 

"What  a  pity,  Miss  Man  vers,  that  the  fashion  has  gone 
out  of  selling  one's  self  to  the  devil!  .  .  .  W/iat  a  capital  plan 
for  younger  brothers  !  It  is  a  kind  of  thing  I  have  been  trying 
to  do  all  my  life,  and  never  could  succeed  in.  I  began  at 
school  with  toasted  cheese  and  a  pitchfork." 

Or  take  the  report  of  the  debate  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
"  imposing,  particularly  if  we  take  a  part  in  it  " — 

"  Lord  Exchamberlain  thought  the  nation  going  on  wrong, 
and  he  made  a  speech  full  of  currency  and  constitution. 
Baron  Deprivyseal  seconded  him  with  great  effect,  brief  but 
bitter,  satirical  but  sore.  The  Earl  of  Quarterday  answered 
these,  full  of  confidence  in  the  nation  and  himself.  When  the 
debate  was  getting  heavy.  Lord  Snap  jumped  up  to  give 
them  something  light.  The  Lords  do  not  encourage  wit, 
and  so  are  obliged  to  put  up  with  pertness.  But  Viscount 
Memoir  was  very  statesmanlike,  and  spouted  a  sort  of  uni- 
versal history.  Then  there  was  Lord  Ego,  who  vindicated  his 
character,  when  nobody  knew  he  had  one,  and  explained  his 
motives,  because  his  auditors  could  not  understand  his  acts." 

Or  the  comparison  of  the  defeated  Tories  to  the  Saxons 
converted  by  Charlemagne — 

"...  When  the  Emperor  appeared,  instead  of  conquering, 
he  converted  them.  How  were  they  converted  .'*  In  bat- 
talions ;  the  old  chronicler  informs  us  they  were  converted 
in  battalions,  and  baptised  in  platoons.  It  was  utterly  im- 
possible to  bring  these  individuals  from  a  state  of  reprobation 
to  one  of  grace  with  sufficient  celerity." 

In  his  speeches  again  there  is  the  locus  classicus  of  "  the 
range  of  exhausted  volcanoes" — "not  a  flame  flickers  on  a 
single  pallid  crest."  There  are  the  wonderful  political  pictures 
of  the  "  Calabrian  Earthquake,"  the  "  ragged  regiment  that 
would  not  march  through  Coventry — that's  flat ;  "  "  Melbourne 
with  his  Reform  Ministry  and  Ducrow  still  professing  to  ride  on 
three  sullen  jackasses  at  once,  but  sprawling  in  the  sawdust  of 
the  arena  ; "  of  Peel  as  the  profligate  deserting  his  mistress  and 
"  sending  down  his  valet  to  say, '  I  will  have  no  whining  here,'  " 
and  a  hundred  others  as  good.^     Perhaps  "Gamaliel,  with  all 

'  One  of  the  best  is  the  invective  against  the  collapse  of  Peel's  "  sliding 


LITERATURE  295 

the  broad  'phylacteries  on  his  forehead,'  who  'comes  down  to  tell 
us  that  he  is  not  as  other  men  are,'  in  reference  to  the  '  Cabal ' 
of  1859,  should  also  be  included.  This  is  the  'parliamentary 
wit '  which  Gladstone  avowed  unrivalled,  and  these,  the  vivid 
illustrations  and  metaphors,  which  he  declared  supreme  in 
power  of  '  summing  up  characters  and  situations,'  and  fraught 
with  the  gift  of  '  appealing  to  the  ear  and  the  fancy.'  " 

But  there  is  also  one  from  The  Press  of  1853  which  is 
unknown,  and  claims  a  memorial.  He  is  referring  to  the 
"Coalition"  Ministry  of  1853 — one,  as  he  calls  it,  of  "sus- 
pended opinions,"  and  "  resembling  the  ark  into  which  crea- 
tures of  the  most  opposite  species  walked  two  by  two."  It 
singles  out  a  magnificent  "  over-educated  mediocrity  "  among 
the  strait  sect  of  the  "  Peelites  " — those  who  in  Lady  Clan- 
ricarde's  epigram  "were  always  putting  themselves  up  to 
auction  and  buying  themselves  in  again."  It  satirises 
that  leader's  protest  that  he  was  still  a  "  Conservative,"  his 
announced  "  regret  at  the  rupture  of  ancient  ties,"  his  "  hope 
of  some  future  reunion  " — 

"...  Amiable  regret!  Honourable  hope!  reminding  us 
of  those  inhabitants  of  the  South  Sea  Islands,  who  never 
devour  their  enemies — that  would  be  paying  them  too  great  a 
compliment.  They  eat  up  only  their  own  friends  and  rela- 
tions with  an  appetite  proportioned  to  the  love  that  they  bear 
to  them.  And  then  they  hasten  to  deck  themselves  in  the 
feathers  and  trappings  of  those  thus  tenderly  devoured  in 
memorial  of  their  regret  at  the  'rupture  of  ancient  ties,'  and 
their  '  hope  of  some  future  reunion.'  Do  you  feel  quite  safe 
with  your  new  ally }  Do  you  not  dread  that  the  same 
affectionate  tooth  will  some  day  be  fastened  upon  your  own 
shoulders  1 '  " 

scale  :  " — " ...  Of  course  the  Whigs  will  be  the  chief  .mourners  ;  they 
cannot  but  weep  for  their  innocent,  though  it  was  an  abortion.  But  ours 
was  a  fine  child.  Who  can  forget  how  its  nurse  dandled  and  fondled  it  ? 
'  What  a  charming  babe  !  Delicious  little  thing!  So  thriving  !  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  beauty  for  its  years  ? '  And  then  the  nurse,  in  a  fit  of 
patriotic  frenzy,  dashes  its  brains  out,  and  comes  down  to  give  master  and 
mistress  an  account  of  this  terrible  murder.  The  nurse  too,  a  person  of 
a  very  orderly  demeanour,  not  given  to  drink,  and  never  showing  any 
emotion,  except  of  late  when  kicking  against  protection." 


296  DISRAELI 

No  wonder  that  Lord  Granville — "  un  radical  qui  aime  la 
bonne  societe " — described  Disraeli  as  a  "master"  in  the 
literary  expression  of  "praise  and  blame." 

Last,  though  not  least,  should  be  mentioned  Pinto's  dictum 
on  English — 

"  It  is  an  expressive  language,  but  not  difficult  to  master. 
Its  range  is  limited.  It  consists,  so  far  as  I  can  observe,  of 
four  words,  "nice,"  "jolly,"  "charming,"  and  "bore;"  and 
some  grammarians  add  "  fond." 

But  none  knew  better  than  Disraeli  that  wit  unrelieved  is 
metallic.  He  had  a  very  real  perception  of  the  ludicrous,  and 
it  was  usually  of  a  cast  bordering  on  irony.  In  boyhood, 
Disraeli  had  been  a  great  admirer  of  Montaigne,  one  of  those 
authors,  as  he  acknowledged,  who  "  give  a  spring  to  the 
mind  ;  "  but  I  cannot  discern  any  influence  of  Montaigne's 
twinkling  stillness  on  Disraeli's  humour.  The  humour  of 
Moliere  and  of  Sheridan,  like  that  of  Fielding,  of  Hogarth, 
and  of  Dickens,  is  direct  and  didactic,  pointing  to  the  follies 
and  foibles  of  mankind.  That,  on  the  other  hand,  of  Sterne, 
often  of  Thackeray,  always  of  Heine,  is  indirect,  inclined  to 
be  sentimental,  and  insinuating  with  all  the  machinery  of 
playful  surprise,  the  inconsistencies  that  enlist  feeling  or 
awaken  thought.  Swift's  grim  and  creative  humour,  also, 
that  "  knocks  off  the  tallest  of  heads "  with  a  knotted 
bludgeon,  wielded,  however,  by  an  imaginative  fierceness,  is 
of  the  same  order ;  and  Swift  had  been  early  studied,  was 
constantly  quoted,  and  often  imitated  by  Disraeli.  The 
former  is  the  broadsword  of  Coeur  de  Lion  ;  the  latter,  the 
scimitar  of  Saladin.  It  is  of  this  latter  species  that  Disraeli 
at  his  best  must  be  reckoned.  It  stamps  the  whole  of 
Popanilla,  and  much  of  Ixion,  and  The  hifernal  Marriage, 
and  it  interleaves  both  his  wit,  his  argument,  and  his  reflection 
throughout  his  novels,  and,  conspicuously  in  his  triumph, 
Coningsby. 

Take  "  Lord  Monmouth's  "  indignant  lesson  to  the  hero : 
"  You  go  with  your  family,  sir,  like  a  gentleman.  Y021  are  not 
to  consider  your  opinions  like  a  philosoplier  or  a  political  adven- 
turer ;  "  or  the  motive  for  his  bequest  of  his  bust  to  "  Rigby," 
"  that  he  might  perhaps  wish  to  present  it  to  another  friend  ;  " 


LITERATURE  297 

or  the  same  amiable  nobleman's  reason  for  esteeming  besides 
appreciating  "  Sidonia  " — he  was  so  rich  that  he  could  not  be 
bought.  "A  person  or  a  thing  that  you  perhaps  could  not 
buy,  became,"  in  his  eyes,  "  invested  with  a  kind  of  halo 
amounting  almost  to  sanctity."  "  Lord  Monmouth,"  indeed, 
and  "Rigby"  are  Disraeli's  masterpieces  in  this  vein;  and 
"  Mrs.  Guy  Flouncey,"  who,  like  "  Becky,"  "  was  always  sure  of 
an  ally  the  moment  the  gentlemen  entered  the  drawing-room," 
follows  at  no  very  remote  distance.  Take  "  Waldershare's  " 
account  of  England's  ascendency  : — 

"  I  must  say  it  was  a  grand  idea  of  our  Kings  making 
themselves  sovereigns  of  the  sea.  The  greater  portion 
of  this  planet  is  water,  so  tve  at  once  became  a  first-rate 
power  y 

Or  the  Homeric  simplicity  of  the  "Ansary"  tribe,  who 
believe  London  to  be  surrounded  by  sea,  and  inquire  if  the 
English  dwell  in  ships,  and  are  thus  corrected  by  their 
would-be  interpreter  "  Keferinis  " — 

"  The  English  live  in  ships  only  during  six  months  of  the 
year — principally  when  they  go  to  India — the  rest  entirely  at 
their  country  houses." 

Similarly,  too,  is  the  oblique  sarcasm  of  "  Tancred's " 
"  Fakredeen  " — 

"...  We  ought  never  to  be  surprised  at  anything  that 
is  done  by  the  English,  who  are,  after  all,  in  a  certain  sense, 
savages.  .  .  .  Everything  they  require  is  imported  from  other 
countries.  ...  I  have  been  assured  at  Beiroot  that  they  do 
not  grow  even  their  own  cotton  ;  but  that  I  can  hardly 
believe.  Even  their  religion  is  an  exotic,  and,  as  they  are 
indebted  for  that  to  Syria,  it  is  not  surprising  they  should 
import  their  education  from  Greece." 

So,  too,  the  piteous  plight  of  the  two  honest  servants— 
"  Freeman  and  Trueman  " — who  complain  to  their  master,  in 
sight  of  Sinai,  that  they  '*  do  miss  the  'ome-brewed  ale  and 
the  family  prayers  ; "  and  the  twice-raised  wonder  of  the 
"Swells"  as  to  what  could  drag  one  of  their  compeers 
to  Palestine :  "  1  believe  Jeremiah  somewhere  mentions 
partridges."  Nor  should  "  St.  Aldegonde's  sigh  " — "  of  a  rebel- 
lious   Titan"— at    refusing    to    attend    morning    church    at 


298  DISRAELI 

Brentham  be  forgotten  :  "  Sunday  in  London  is  bad,  but 
Sunday  in  the  country  is  infernal  ; "  or  his  dainty  wife's 
elaborate  efforts  that  he  should  never  be  bored  ;  or  the 
handsome  Duke's  ^  daily  thanksgiving  as  he  completed  his 
"consummate  toilette"  that  he  had  a  family  "worthy  of 
him." 

"  Rigby's"  election,  too — an  excellent  example — well  illus- 
trates the  man  to  whom  the  country  meant  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  the  constituency,  and  to  whom  his  titled  patron's 
choice  of  him  as  executor  was  a  "  sublime  truth."  The  whole 
scene  is  one  of  sustained  humour.  I  will  only  cite  "  Rigby's  " 
"grand  peroration." 

"...  He  assured  them  that  the  eyes  of  the  whole  empire 
were  on  this  particular  election  (cries  of  '  That's  true  ! '  on  all 
sides),  and  England  expected  every  man  to  do  his  duty. 
'And  ivho  do  you  expect  to  do  yours  ^  inquired  a  gentleman 
below,  'about  that  'ere  pension?'  ..." 

Then  again,  the  episode  of  the  Justice  of  the  Peace  in 
Venetia,  and  this  from  Endyiiiion — 

"  The  chairman  opened  the  proceedings,  but  was  coldly 
received,  though  he  spoke  sensibly  and  at  some  length.  He 
then  introduced  a  gentleman  who  was  absolutely  an  alderman 
to  move  a  resolution.  .  .  .  The  august  position  of  the  speaker 
atoned  for  his  halting  rhetoric  ;  and  a  city  which  had  only 
just  for  the  first  time  been  invested  with  municipal  privileges 
was  hushed  before  a  man  who  might  in  time  even  become  a 
mayor." 

So,  too,  once  more  ;  the  description  of  "  Armine's  "  expe- 
riences in  the  sponging-house,  where  the  only  literature  was 
a  Hebrew  Bible.  This  is  from  Henrietta  Temple.  In  Vivian 
Grey,  his  first  novel,  occurs  the  same  whimsical  humour  that 
is  to  be  found  in  his  last,  Endymion,  The  German  statesman 
is  pointing  a  ^<?^/rw^/-metaphysician,  "  stuffing  '  kalte  schale  ' 
in  a  corner." 

"...  The  leaven  of  the  idealists,  a  pupil  of  the  celebrated 
Fichte.  .  .  .  The  first  principle  of  this  school  is  to  reject  all 
expressions  which  incline  in  the  slightest  degree  to  substan- 
tiality. .  .  .  Matter  is  his  great  enemy.  My  dear  sir,  observe 
1  The  late  Duke  of  Abercorn. 


LITERATURE  299 

how  exquisitely  Nature  revenges  herself  on  these  capricious 
and  fantastic  children.  Methinks  that  the  best  answer  to 
the  idealism  of  M.  Fichte  is  to!  see  his  pupil  devouring  kalte 
schale!' 

In  Lothair  few  will  forget  the  hero's  musings  after  the 
opera  attendant's  "  Thank  you,  my  lord  "  had  attested  the 
"overpowering  honorarium." 

" '  He  knows  me,'  thought  Lothair  ;  but  it  was  not  so. 
When  the  British  nation  is  at  once  grateful  and  enthusiastic, 
they  always  call  you  '  my  lord.' "  And  in  the  same  novel 
occurs  the  admirable  humour  of  the  scene  at  Muriel  Towers, 
where  the  new  French  dance  which  is  remembered  and 
at  last  arranged  by  the  impromptu  good  humour  and  clever- 
ness of  "  Theodora,"  is  muddled  by  "  Lord  Carisbrook,"  who 
sums  up  his  knowledge  by  "Newest  thing  in  Paris,"  yet, 
notwithstanding,  grins  afterwards,  quite  self-satisfied,  with  his 
"  I  am  glad  I  remembered  it." 

There  remains  this  light  thrust  at  London  architecture — 

"  Shall  we  find  refuge  in  a  committee  of  taste,  escape 
from  the  mediocrity  of  one  to  the  mediocrity  of  many  }  .  .  . 
One  suggestion  might  be  made.  No  profession  in  England 
has  done  its  best  until  it  has  furnished  its  victim.  The  pure 
administration  of  justice  dates  from  the  deposition  of  Maccles- 
field. .  .  .  Even  our  boasted  navy  never  achieved  a  victory 
until  we  shot  an  admiral.     Suppose  an  architect  were  hanged  !" 

And,  finally,  how  admirable  is  the  mock  epic  of  the  chef's 
dilemma  at  the  opening  of  Tancred :  "It  is  worthy  of 
Boileau." 

"  .  .  .  '  What  you  learned  from  me,'  says  Papa  Prevost, 
'  came  at  least  from  a  good  school.  It  is  something  to  have 
served  under  Napoleon,'  he  added,  with  the  grand  air  of  the 
imperial  kitchen.  '  Had  it  not  been  for  Waterloo,  I  should 
have  had  the  cross.  But  the  Bourbons  and  the  Cooks  of  the 
Empire  never  could  understand  each  other.  They  brought  over 
an  emigrant  chef  who  did  not  comprehend  the  taste  of  the  age. 
He  wished  to  bring  everything  back  to  the  time  of  the  "  ml- 
de-boeufy  When  Monsieur  passed  my  soup  of  Austerlitz  jin- 
tasted,  I  knew  the  old  family  was  doomed!  .  .  .  '  We  must 
muster  all  our  forces,'  says  the  great  Leander.     '  There  is  a 


300  DISRAELI 

want  not  only  of  genius  but  of  men  in  our  art.  The  Cooks 
are  like  the  civil  engineers  :  since  the  middle  class  have  taken 
to  giving  dinners,  the  demand  exceeds  the  supply.'  '  There 
is  Andrien,'  said  Papa  Prevost ;  '  you  had  some  hopes  of 
him.'  '  He  is  too  young.  I  took  him  to  Hellingsley,  and 
he  lost  his  head  on  the  third  day.  I  entrusted  the  soufflh 
to  him,  and  but  for  the  most  desperate  personal  exertions, 
all  would  have  been  lost.  //  tvas  an  affair  of  the  Bridge 
of  Areola.'  .  .  ."  How  Lilliput  and  Brobdingnag  here 
combine !  I  prefer  this  epic-fantasy  to  the  lyric-fantasy  of 
Thackeray's  "  Mirobolant." 

When  Disraeli  was  out  of  office  for  the  last  term,  he  was 
walking  with  a  leading  member  of  the  Government  that  had 
replaced  his  own.  The  statesman  asked  him  how  he  thought 
the  new  Administration  was  getting  on.  "  Pretty  well,"  was 
his  answer,  "  but  I  like  the  old-fashioned  methods.  The  first 
year  you  do  nothing  ;  the  second  year  you  talk  of  doing 
something ;  the  third  year  you  do  something — and  succeed  ; 
the  fourth  you  do  something — and  fail  ;  the  fifth  year  you 
spend  in  discussing  whether  it  was  a  failure  or  not  ;  the  sixth, 
you  go  to  the  country,  who  prono2ince  that  it  icas." 

Most  of  these  are  to  some  degree  fanciful  persiflage.  Not 
so  the  following — a  passage  alluded  to  in  a  note  already,  and 
compared  with  another  one  from  Heine.  He  is  describing 
the  Vintage  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  and  the  passage  is  the 
more  remarkable  because  Disraeli's  father  instances  this  very 
festival  as  one  of  the  obsolete  and  fanatical  absurdities  that 
unfit  the  Old  Testament  religion  for  its  proper  fulfilment  by 
the  New  : — 

"  Picture  to  yourself  the  child  of  Israel  in  the  dingy 
suburb  or  the  stolid  quarter  of  some  bleak  Northern  town, 
where  there  is  never  a  sun  that  can  at  any  rate  ripen  grapes  ; 
yet  he  must  celebrate  the  vintage  of  purple  Palestine.  .  ,  . 
He  rises  in  the  morning,  goes  early  to  some  Whitechapel 
market,  purchases  some  willow  boughs  for  which  he  has 
previously  given  a  commission,  and  which  are  brought 
probably  from  one  of  the  neighbouring  rivers  of  Essex, 
hastens  home,  cleans  out  the  yard  of  his  miserable  tene- 
ment, builds   his   bower,   decks   it   even    profusely  with   the 


LITERATURE  301 

finest  flowers  and  fruit  he  can  procure,  and  hangs  its  roof 
with  variegated  lamps.  After  the  service  of  his  synagogue, 
he  sups  late  with  his  wife  and  children,  as  if  he  were  in  the 
pleasant  villages  of  Galilee  beneath  its  sweet  and  starry- 
sky.  .  .  .  Perhaps  as  he  is  offering  up  the  peculiar  thanks- 
giving, .  .  .  and  his  wife  and  children  are  joining  in  a  pious 
'  Hosanna ' — that  is,  *  Save  us  ' — a  party  of  Anglo-Saxons,  very 
respectable  men,  ten-poiinders ,  a  little  elevated,  it  may  be, 
thougJi,  certainly  not  in  honour  of  the  vintage^  pass  the  house, 
and  zvords  like  these  are  heard:  '/  say,  Buggins,  what's 
that  row  ? '  '  Oh,  it's  those  cursed  fews  I  We've  a  lot  of  them. 
Its  one  of  their  horrible  feasts.  The  Lord  Mayor  ought  to 
interfere.  However,  things  are  not  so  bad  as  they  used  to  be. 
They  tcsed  akvays  to  crucify  little  boys  at  their  hullabaloos,  but 
now  they  only  eat  sausages  made  of  stiiiking  pork!  '  To  be 
sure,'  replies  his  companion,  ^ive  all  make  progress!  " 

And  there  are  many  pendants  to  this  kind  of  pathetic 
humour  in  the  sad  vagaries,  degraded  ignorance,  sordid  joys 
and  squalid  sorrows  of  the  operatives  of  "  Wodgate "  so 
sympathetically  presented  in  Sybil: — 

" .  .  .  '  They  call  me  Tummas,  but  I  ayn't  got  no  second 
name  ;  but  now  I'm  married  I  mean  to  take  my  wife's,  for 
she  has  been  baptised,  and  so  has  got  two.'  '  Yes,  sir,'  said 
the  girl  with  the  vacant  face  and  the  back  like  a  grasshopper, 
'  I  be  a  reg'lar  born  Christian,  and  my  mother  afore  me,  and 
that's  what  few  gals  in  the  yard  can  say.  Thomas  will  take 
to  it  himself  when  work  is  slack  ;  and  he  believes  now  in  Our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Pontius  Pilate,  who  was  crucified  to  save 
our  sins,  and  in  Moses,  Goliath,  and  the  rest  of  the  apostles.' 
'  Ah,  me ! '  thought  Morley,  '  and  could  not  they  spare 
one  missionary  from  Tahiti  for  their  fellow-countrymen  at 
Wodgate?'" 

I  must  turn  to  the  romantic  and  the  picturesque  in  Disraeli's 
fiction.  It  is  a  large  subject,  but  it  need  not  necessitate  a 
long  treatment. 

The  Brontes  and  Bulwer  Lytton,  in  opposed  spheres  and 
with  opposite  material,  are  perhaps  the  only  modern  pure 
romantics   in  English  fiction,  before  the    romantic  revival  of 


302  DISKAELI 

the  last  twenty  years  or  so  had  set  in.  In  the  early  nine- 
teenth century  Sir  Walter  Scott  had  headed  another  romantic 
revivcil.  Miss  Austen,  however, — the  miniaturist  of  realism — 
recalled  fiction  in  her  delicate  manner  to  the  beaten  high-road 
of  the  eighteenth.  Dickens,  romantic  by  instinct,  dwelt  on  the 
horrible  and  grotesque,  and  was  more  melodramatic  than 
strictly  romantic.  Thackeray,  sternly  combating  the  infinite 
romance  of  his  own  nature,  disclaimed  a  hero,  and  proved 
sentimental  rather  than  romantic.  Trollope,  who  photo- 
graphed feeling,  abominated  romance.  George  Eliot  set  out 
as  a  romantic,  but  she  soon  became  gloriously  whelmed  in 
the  vortex  of  scientific  psychology.  Others,  who  lack  her 
imagination,  have  since  followed  in  her  track.  We  have 
been  treated  to  analytic  presentations  of  life,  where  some  five 
persons  engage  in  a  mutual  war  of  motive,  and  the  very 
reasons  for  turning  a  door-handle  are  minutely  involved  in 
character.  On  the  one  hand,  we  had  the  English  and  French 
sensationalists  elaborately  unravelling  mysteries  ;  on  the 
other,  the  boudoir  psychologists  as  elaborately  anatomising 
moods.  The  great  "  naturalist "  school  supervened  with  its 
claims  to  scientise  misery.  Victor  Hugo's  romanticism  was 
doomed  by  the  merciless  lancet  of  these  literary  surgeons. 
And  throughout — even  now,  in  the  main,  using  "  romance  " 
more  with  regard  to  situation  and  expression  than  to  events — 
the  purely  and  simply  heroic  and  adventurous  has  lost  ground. 
Mind  rather  than  action  engrossed  a  great  part  of  late  nine- 
teenth-century fiction. 

With  all  faults,  native  and  imposed,  Disraeli  proclaimed 
in  his  novels,  in  those  which  were  political  fairy-tales,  as  in 
those  which  were  not,  "  adventures  are  to  the  adventurous  ; " 
and  this  very  phrase,  too,  occurs  in  his  earliest  satire.  Contaj'ini 
/^^^w/w^was  originally  styled  "The  Psychological  Romance  ;" 
Alroy  is  undoubtedly  a  romance  historical  ;  The  Young 
Duke,  a  romance  of  fashion  ;  Vivian  Grey,  one  both  of 
fashion  and  of  ambition  ;  Vcnetia,  of  biography  ;  Henrietta 
Temple,  of  love  ;  and  the  rest,  romances  of  the  world's  actors 
and  action. 

But  the  extraordinary  is  merely  the  mantle  of  romanticism 
proper.     Its  method  is  everything.     It  is  one  that  brings  up 


LITERATURE  303 

before  us  at  once  the  thing  seen  and  the  man  seeing.  It 
releases  individuality  from  stereotyped  shackles,  it  transfers 
interest  from  achievement  to  achievement's  atmosphere,  and 
it  lends  to  landscape-painting  the  same  element  that  it  lends 
to  character-drawing. 

The  French  separate  their  terms  in  distinguishing  between 
real  and  feigned  romance.  The  one  they  call  r om antique ; 
the  other,  romanesgue.  The  really  romantic  in  fiction  is  so 
to  write  as  to  import  into  the  interest  of  the  extraordinary 
the  interest  also  of  the  author's  temperament.  Both  the 
unusual  subject  and  the  imparted  atmosphere  are  requisites. 
Rasselas  is  an  unusual  subject  sententiously  treated.  It  is 
parable,  not  romance.  The  Soyig  of  the  Shirt  is  an,  alas ! 
commonplace  theme  transfigured  by  sympathy.  It  is  pathetic, 
not  romantic.  Sir  Walter  Scott,  however,  is  romantic  par 
excellence.  We  are  sure  that  his  background  is  unusual,  and 
he  stamps  his  individuality  on  the  foreground.  So,  too,  with 
his  pictures  of  scenery.  The  writer's  heart,  rather  than  his 
head,  pervades  the  perspective.  The  unromantic  author  is  a 
showman,  the  romantic  author  an  actor.  The  one  fits  character 
to  persons  ;  the  other  from  persons  evolves  character.  The 
romantic  reveals  the  wonderful  to  us  by  personal  feeling. 
Ruskin  once  defined  the  picturesque  as  "  parasitical  sublimity ;" 
Carlyle,  too  (as  romantic  and  picturesque  himself  as  Ruskin), 
denounces  the  faculty  in  which  he  excelled.  But  these 
thinkers  failed,  perhaps,  to  grasp  that  the  root  of  the  most 
beautiful  impressions  is  association  interwoven  with  memory, 
fancy,  affection,  even  superstition,  and  the  symbols  of  very 
names.  Strip  Venice  of  her  climate,  rob  man  of  his  memory, 
and  where  is  the  Venice  that  Ruskin  adored  ?  Absolute 
beauty  does  exist,  but  rarely  ;  and  we  atone  for  imperfections 
by  supplementing  it  with  the  endearments  of  outward  accident. 
It  is  Nature's  own  method  ;  she  garlands  the  rift  of  ruins 
with  her  greenery.  The  dead  letter  sleeps  in  literature  as  in 
life,  of  which  literature  ought  to  be  the  most  sensitive  mirror. 
Warmth  is  as  indispensable  as  light ;  and  if  fiction  is  to  remain 
an  art  and  not  sink  into  a  false  science,  the  dry  bones  of  hard 
facts  must  be  made  to  live.  By  these  means,  too,  the  personal 
influence  of  great  writers  is  most  practically  preserved.     The 


304  DISRAELI 

wonderful  in  Nature  can  never  be  unnatural.  It  is  only  the 
affectation  of  it  that  is  so — and  that  is  usually  accompanied 
by  Mrs.  Malaprop's  "nice  derangement  of  epitaphs." 

Now,  so  far  as  Disraeli's  characters  merely  typify — and 
they  do  often — causes  or  movements,  they  are  not  romantic, 
however  picturesque  their  garb.  But  so  far  as  they  do  not, 
they  are  essentially  romantic,  and,  where  politicians  in  council 
are  not  concerned,  this  is  constantly  the  case. 

Nothing  can  be  more  romantic,  both  in  matter  and  manner, 
than  the  first  introduction  of  "  Sidonia."  The  "  Princess 
Lucretia  Colonna  "  in  Coningsby,  is  romance  incarnate.  "  Mor- 
ley,"  again,  in  Sybil  is  a  most  romantic  figure.  The  whole 
episode  of  the  "  Baronis,"  in  Tana'ed,  is  genuinely  and 
strikingly  romantic.  So  is  the  figure  of  "  Theodora "  in 
Lothair ;  and  all  these  occur  in  political  novels.  But  in  the 
non-political  they  abound.  The  early  squibs  are,  perhaps, 
the  only  romantic  skits  in  our  language.  Vivian  Grey,  too, 
is  full  of  romance,  and  comprises  the  romantic  drolleries  of 
"  Essper  George,"  a  modern  Sancho.  The  whole  of  Venetia 
and  all  the  action  of  Contarini  are  romantic  ;  so  is  his  only 
and  halting  drama,  Alarcos.  Though  at  times,  and  from 
causes  which  I  shall  consider,  there  is  in  these  early  novels 
something  of  old  Drury,  and  too  much  occasionally  of  the 
"  Ha  !-and-Pah  !  "  attitude,  these  are  only  blemishes  in  the 
costume  ;  the  figures  remain  romantic. 

But  it  is,  perhaps,  in  the  short  but  charming  descriptions 
of  character  and  of  scenery  that  Disraeli  best  showed  his 
powers  for  the  romantic  and  the  picturesque.  Take  the 
character  of  "  Fakredeen  ; "  take  even  the  character  of  Sir 
Robert  Peel  in  the  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck.  Take 
a  hundred  touches  from  his  Home  Letters,  and  those  to 
his  sister  and  family.  He  there  says  that  "description  is  a 
bore,"  but  he  contrived  in  a  few  strokes  to  picture  without 
describing.  The  sunset  at  Athens,  "  like  the  neck  of  a  dove." 
His  vignettes  of  the  Parthenon,  of  the  Lagoons,  of  Jerusalem, 
of  Syria,  both  here  and  in  Contarini,  Tancred,  and  Lothair, 
are  etched  by  a  master-hand. 

Disraeli  casts  over  his  scenes  the  reflected  glow  of  asso- 
ciative feeling.     Peruse  the  beautiful  rendering  of  "Marney 


LITERATURE  305 

Abbey"  in  Sybil  (too  long  to  quote).  It  is  essentially  a 
placid  scene  romantically  described,  with  an  individual  feeling 
of  soft  regret  and  tender  awe  communicated  to  the  dreamy 
landscape.  It  proves  his  delight  in  what  he  called  "the 
sweet  order  of  country  life  ; "  his  feeling  for  the  "  order  of  the 
peasantry  .  .  .  succeeded  by  a  race  of  serfs  who  are  called 
labourers  and  burn  ricks." 

If  we  would  note  the  contrast  in  unromantic  writers  of 
genius,  we  have  only  to  re-read  Jane  Austen's  description 
of  Northanger  Abbey,  where,  be  it  marked,  in  purposely 
deriding  the  false  romance  of  a  girl's  sickly  fancy,  she  must 
have  desired  to  depict  the  demesne  with  every  impressive 
attribute. 

And  take  this  from  Tancred:  "Sometimes  the  land  is 
cleared,  and  he  finds  himself  by  the  homestead  of  a  forest 
farm.  .  .  .  Still  advancing  the  deer  become  rarer,  and  the 
road  is  formed  by  an  avenue  of  chestnuts.  .  .  .  Persons  are 
moving  to  and  fro  on  the  side-path  of  the  road.  Horsemen 
and  carts  seem  returning  from  market ;  women  with  empty 
baskets,  and  then  the  rare  vision  of  a  stage-coach.  The 
postillion  spurs  his  horses,  cracks  his  whip,  and  dashes  at  full 
gallop  into  the  town  of  Montacute,  the  capital  of  the  forest. 
.  .  .  Nor  does  this  green  domain  terminate  till  it  touches 
the  vast  and  purple  moors  that  divide  the  kingdoms  of  Great 
Britain." 

The  effects  of  light  play  a  leading  part  in  Disraeli's 
landscapes. 

"...  Nor  is  there,  indeed,  a  sight  "  (of  Mont  Blanc  in 
Contarini)  "  more  lovely  than  to  watch  at  decline  of  day  the 
last  embrace  of  the  sun  lingering  on  the  rosy  glaciers.  Soon, 
too  soon,  the  great  luminary  dies  ;  the  warm  peaks  subside 
into  purple,  and  then  die  into  a  ghostly  white :  but  soon,  and 
not  too  soon,  the  moon  springs  up  from  behind  a  mountain, 
flings  over  the  lake  a  stream  of  light,  and  the  sharp  glaciers 
glitter  like  silver." 

This,  too,  of  night  in  Venice — 

"...  The  music  and  the  moon  reign  supreme,  .  .  .  Around 
on  every  side  are  palaces  and  temples  rising  from  the  waves 
which  they  shadow  with  their  solemn  form,  their  costly  fronts 


3o6  DISRAELI 

rich  with  the  spoils  of  kingdoms  and  softened  with  the  magic 
of  the  midnight  beam.  The  whole  city,  too,  is  poured  forth 
for  festival.  The  people  lounge  on  the  quays  and  cluster 
on  the  bridges  ;  the  light  barks  skim  along  in  crowds,  just 
touching  the  surface  of  the  water,  while  their  bright  prows 
of  polished  iron  gleam  in  the  moonshine  and  glitter  in  the 
rippling  wave.  Not  a  sound  that  is  not  graceful — the  tinkle 
of  guitars,  the  sighs  of  serenaders,  and  the  responsive  chorus 
of  gondoliers.  Now  and  then  a  laugh,  light,  joyous,  and  yet 
musical,  bursts  forth  from  some  illuminated  coffee-house, 
before  which  a  buffo  disports.  .  .  ." 

Here,  again,  is  an  English  summer  morning  from  Sybil — 

"  A  bloom  was  spread  over  the  morning  sky  ;  a  soft 
golden  light  bathed  with  its  fresh  sheen  the  bosom  of  the 
valley,  except  where  a  delicate  haze  rather  than  a  mist  still 
partially  lingered  over  the  river,  which  yet  occasionally  gleamed 
and  sparkled  in  the  sunshine.  A  sort  of  shadowy  lustre 
suffused  the  landscape,  which,  though  distinct,  was  mitigated 
in  all  its  features — the  distant  woods,  the  clumps  of  tall  trees 
that  rose  about  the  old  grey  bridge,  the  cottage  chimneys  that 
sent  their  smoke  into  the  blue,  still  air,  amid  their  clustering 
orchards  and  gardens,  flowers  and  herbs." 

There  are  many  more  such  studies  of  light  in  home 
landscape,  and  not  least  in  Lothair.  And  these  are  all  ren- 
derings of  scenery,  and  not  scene-painting.  In  those  abroad 
I  might  have  included,  too,  the  German  Twilight  from  Vivian 
Grey,  and  the  Grecian  Sunset  from  Contarini,  each  dashed 
off  with  speed,  yet  each  breathing  a  delicate  and  pensive 
peace. 

Another  feature  of  his  pencil  is  its  fondness  for  and 
studied  conversance  with  the  forms,  and  even  the  sounds,  of 
trees..  Their  "  various  voices  "  are  introduced  with  effect  into 
the  storm  in  Vivian  Grey.  As  years  went  on,  this  love  of 
trees  grew  stronger.  It  is  expressly  mentioned  as  the  hobby 
of  his  old  age  by  Lady  John  Manners.  There  is  not  one 
of  his  novels  where  the  varieties  of  wood  and  forest  are  not 
handled  with  distinctness  and  affectionate  observation.  "  Con- 
tarini's  "  pet  tree  is  oak.  In  Endyniion  is  a  park  entirely  of 
ilex.     A  glade  at  "  Hurstley  "  is  "bounded  on  each  side  with 


LITERATURE  307 

masses  of  yew,  their  dark  green  forms  now  studded  with 
crimson  berries."  "  Nigel  Penruddock,"  the  Tractarian,  lolls 
"  on  the  turf  amid  the  old  beeches  and  the  juniper ; "  and  in 
the  woods  of  a  castle  in  Vivian  Grey,  "  There  was  the  elm 
with  its  rich  branches  bending  down  like  clustering  grapes  ; 
there  was  the  wide-spreading  oak  with  its  roots  fantastically 
gnarled  ;  there  was  the  ash  with  its  smooth  bark,  and  the 
silver  beech,  and  the  gracile  birch,  and  the  dark  fir  affording 
with  its  rough  foliage  a  contrast  to  the  trunks  of  its  more 
beautiful  companions,  or  shooting  far  above  their  branches 
with  a  spirit  of  freedom  worthy  of  a  rough  child  of  the  moun- 
tains." "Elegant"  and  "gracile"  in  this  boyish  sketch  are 
Johnsonese,  it  is  true  ;  but  its  romantic  faculty  is  evident. 
He  delighted,  too,  in  Elizabethan  gardens  and  Italian  par- 
terres ;  and  he  has  drawn,  both  in  outward  and  inward  outline, 
suggestive  and  romantic  presentments  of  Oxford,  Cambridge, 
and  Eton. 

And  he  could  paint  the  marvellous  to  perfection.  In 
Alroy,  the  magic  ravine  over  which  the  hero  must  cross  to 
win  his  talisman,  rises  before  the  view  with  the  detail  of 
reality :  so  does  the  ideal  island  of  Popanilla.  So — and  they 
really  belong  to  the  marvellous— do  the  great  country  seats 
of  "  Montacute,"  "  Hellingsley,"  "  Beaumanoir,"  "  Alhambra," 
"  Chateau  Desir,"  "  Hainault,"  "  Princewood,"  and  "  Muriel 
Towers."  There  are  pictures,  besides,  of  Seville,  Cairo,  and 
the  Frankfort  Fair.  I  could  have  subjoined  the  flaming 
castle  in  Sybil,  the  Derby  in  Endymion,  the  bull-fight  in 
Contarini,  the  desert  in  Alroy,  the  mountain  storm  in  Vivian 
Grey.  But  I  prefer  his  tranquil  pictures,  and  perhaps  one  of 
the  best  is  the  "  Cherbury  "  in  Venetia. 

Another  prominent  characteristic  of  his  romance  was  its 
fondness  for  London  and  the  suburbs,  the  beauty  of  which, 
he  always  held,  was  only  half  appreciated.  "  Airy  "  Brompton 
and  "  merry  "  Kensington,  with  its  young  Queen  "  in  a  palace 
in  a  garden,"  touched  his  fancy  ;  and  the  Georgian  pleasaunces 
of  Roehampton,  the  antiquer  abodes  of  Sheen  dedicated  to 
Swift,  Temple,  and  Stella,  and  the  deer-haunted  woodland 
of  Richmond  Park  still  breathing  of  Anne,  and  Ormonde, 
Pope,  and  Thomson,  and  Walpole  ;  even,  too,  the  Regency 


3o8  DISRAELI 

villas  of  Wimbledon.  A  few  romantic  strokes  in  Henrietta 
Temple  thus  etch  the  Park  of  London  : — 

"  At  the  end  of  a  long  sunny  morning,  .  .  .  where  can 
we  see  such  beautiful  women  and  gallant  cavaliers,  such  fine 
horses  and  such  brilliant  equipages  ?  The  scene,  too,  is 
worthy  of  such  agreeable  accessories  ;  the  groves,  the  gleam- 
ing waters,  and  the  triumphal  arches.  In  the  distance  the 
misty  heights  of  Surrey  and  the  bowery  glades  of  Kensing- 
ton." And  readers  of  LotJiair  will  remember  with  what 
romance  he  clothes  an  early  June  morning  in  Bond  Street, 
and  how,  out  of  the  prismatic  hues  of  the  fishmonger's  shop, 
he  weaves  a  garland  of  gay  fancies  ;  nor  will  he  forget  St. 
James's  Street — that  "celebrated  eminence"  in  Endymion. 
But  it  was  more  serious  London  that  he  admired  most.  The 
foreign  crannies  of  Soho  and  the  dingy  length  of  Marylebone 
have  both  been  explored  by  him.  The  Strand  and  the  City 
purlieus,  however,  were  his  favourites.  The  quaint  sites,  the 
busy  romances  of  the  now  grimy  riverside,  the  historic  names, 
the  contrast  of  outside  flurry  with  inside  repose,  the  dwell- 
ing-houses of  a  past  age  rich  with  its  art  but  now  reserved 
for  musty  parchments  or  massive  ledgers,  fascinated  him. 
"  It  is  at  Charing  Cross,"  he  avers,  that  "  London  becomes 
more  interesting."  This  is  how  he  limns  one  of  finance's 
headquarters  : — 

"In  a  long,  dark,  narrow,  crooked  street,  which  is  still  called 
a  lane,  and  which  runs  from  the  south  side  of  the  street  of 
the  Lombards  towards  the  river,  there  is  one  of  these  old 
houses  of  a  century  past.  ...  A  pair  of  massy  iron  gates  of 
elaborate  workmanship  separates  the  street  from  its  spacious 
and  airy  courtyard,  which  is  formed  on  either  side  by  a  wing 
of  the  mansion,  itself  a  building  of  deep  red  brick,  with  a 
pediment  and  pilasters  and  copings  of  stone  ;  in  the  middle 
of  the  plot  there  is  a  small  garden  plot  inclosing  a  fountain, 
and  a  very  fine  plane  tree.  The  stillness,  doubly  effective  after 
the  tumult  just  quitted,  the  lulling  voice  of  the  water,  the 
soothing  aspect  of  the  quivering  foliage,  the  noble  building 
and  the  cool  and  spacious  quadrangle — the  aspect  even  of 
those  who  enter,  and  frequently  enter,  the  precincts,  and  who 
are  generally  young  men  gliding  in  and  out  earnest  and  full 


LITERATURE  309 

of  thought — all  contribute  to  give  to  this  locality  something 
of  the  classic  repose  of  a  college,  instead  of  a  place  agitated 
with  the  most  urgent  interests  of  the  current  hour." 

London's  motley  vastness,  too,  and  magnetism  of  attrac- 
tion were  constantly  his  themes.  "...  It  is  a  wonderful 
place,  .  .  .  this  London  ;  a  nation,  not  a  city  ;  with  a  popula- 
tion greater  than  some  kingdoms,  and  districts  as  different 
as  if  they  were  under  different  governments,  and  spoke 
different  languages."  And  yet  (of  "  Lothair  "),  "  I  have  been 
living  here  six  months,  and  my  life  has  been  passed  in  a 
park,  two  or  three  squares,  and  half  a  dozen  streets  !  " 

In  Viviaft  Grey  Disraeli  whimsically  observed  that  litera- 
ture was  declining  in  the  'twenties  through  a  wealth  grown 
so  luxurious  as  to  rank  it  with  "  ottomans,  bonbons,  and  pier- 
glasses."  "  Consols  at  a  hundred  were  the  origin  of  all  book 
societies.  There  is  nothing  like  a  fall  in  consols  to  bring  the 
blood  of  our  good  people  of  England  into  good  order." 

Consols  have  now  fallen,  and  maybe  literature  is  reviving. 
Certain  I  am  that,  when  its  revival  becomes  pronounced,  it 
will  be  through  the  invigoration  of  romance.  The  strange 
need  not  be  sought  in  the  remote.  Wordsworth  found  it 
in  "laughing  daffodils,"  as  truly  as  Byron  in  the  Corsair. 
Unromantic  matter,  romantically  treated,  is  more  refreshing 
than  romantic  matter  unquickened  by  personal  feeling — by 

"  Quod  latet  arcand  non  enarrabile  fibrd." 

I  have  mentioned  Disraeli's  early  tendency  towards 
"  Ha  !  "  and  "  Pah  !  "  For  this  there  were  several  reasons 
besides  his  own  temper  and  that  of  the  time. 

When  we  speak  of  an  "artificial"  style  we  mean  one 
unnatural  to  the  author.  Disraeli's  style  was  perfectly 
natural  to  him,  and  it  altered  little.  To  impose  another  man's 
voice  on  our  own  is  real  artifice.  How  natively  pathetic  he 
could  be,  is  shown  by  the  scene  in  Vivian  Grey,  where  the 
broken  Cleveland  sits  and  sobs  amid  the  laughing  children 
on  his  lonely  bench  in  Kensington  Gardens ;  and  how 
simply  pleasing,  by  the  encounter  after  long  years  between 
"  Coningsby  "  and  "  Lady  Theresa."  He  constantly  alternates 
between  the  homely  and  the  outlandish. 


3IO  DISRAELI 

In  the  few  years  preceding  his  grand  tour,  and.  still  more, 
the  earlier  Vivian  Grey,  he  was  at  a  phase  in  his  development 
when  he  was  only  just  beginning  to  realise  the  true  bent  of 
his  powers,  of  which  he  had  from  the  first  been  conscious, 
but  which  had  hitherto  more  or  less  perplexed  and  bewildered 
him.  In  A/roj'  and  Contarini  his  tone  is  one  of  savage  force 
as  yet  unchastened  and  unmellowed.  The  wild  Arab  is  in 
them.  All  the  over-mastering  dreams  of  his  youth  claimed 
materialisation  ;  his  language  went  before  his  feelings,  and 
strove  to  outrun  them  by  vehement  strokes  of  attitude.  He 
thirsted  for  action,  and  yet  drooped,  restless  and  mortified. 
His  circumstances  were  at  war  with  his  consuming  ambi- 
tions. It  was  the  discord  of  a  peculiar  fate  and  an  unique 
organisation  ;  the  ferment  of  a  ripe  spirit  cooped  by  unripe 
experience,  of  an  as  yet  untempered  vigour.  The  genius,  as 
in  the  old  legend,  shrank  and  dwindled  in  the  bottle,  but 
soared  with  gigantic  stature  when  the  stopper  was  released. 
One  must  not  take  the  personal  touches  in  Vivian,  Alroy,  and 
Contarini  too  literally.  They  are  a  blend  of  several  factors 
and  of  various  characters  ;  and  he  himself  in  his  age  regretted 
that  the  last  had  been  the  task  of  immaturity.  But  from 
the  main  emphasis  and  the  prevailing  moods  of  the  three 
together,  thus  much  one  may  gather. 

"Why,  what  is  life"  (this  from  Alroy),  "for  meditation 
mingles  ever  with  my  passion  }  .  .  .  Throw  accidents  to 
the  dogs,  and  tear  off  the  painted  mask  of  false  society! 
Here  am  I,  a  hero  ;  with  a  mind  that  can  devise  all  things, 
and  a  heart  of  superhuman  daring,  with  youth,  with  vigour, 
with  a  glorious  lineage  .  .  .  and  I  am — nothing."  He  was 
morbidly  overdone,  and  he  brooded  and  overdid  his  own 
morbidity.  He  had  lived  in  "a  private  world  and  a  public 
world,"  and  the  two  were  still  at  variance.  "  I  was,"  he  says 
extravagantly  of  a  still  earlier  date,  on  the  lips  of  "  Contarini," 
"  in  these  days  but  a  wild  beast  who  thought  himself  a  civilised 
human  being  ; "  and  yet  "  I  felt  the  conviction  that  literary 
creation  was  necessary  to  my  existence." — "  What  vanity  in 
all  the  empty  bustle  of  common  life!  It  brings  to  me  no 
gratification  ;  on  the  contrary,  degrading  annoyance.  It 
develops  all  the  lowering  attributes  of  my  nature."  He 
was  impatient,  and  yet  he  felt  that  "  patience  is  a  necessary 


LITERATURE  311 

ingredient  of  genius."  "  Nothing  is  more  fatal  than  to  be 
seduced  into  composition  by  the  first  flutter  of  the  imagina- 
tion." He  had  aspired  to  be  a  poet,  and  a  poet  in  a  new 
style  befitting  modern  life.  The  failure  of  the  Revolutionary 
Epick  disgusted  him  ;  yet  how  could  he  have  expected  it  to 
succeed  }  even  if  it  had  been  sold  at  a  farthing,  as  in  the 
case  of  Mr.  Home's  experiment,  it  would  never  have  attracted 
the  public,  for  it  was  a  long  essay  in  stilted  verse.^  He  still 
aspired  to  influence  and  rule  his  fellow-men,  but  no  path  was 
clear.  These  moods  were  not  to  last.  "  Think  of  me  as  of 
some  exotic  bird  which  for  a  moment  lost  its  way  in  thy 
cold  heaven,  but  has  now  regained  its  course  and  wings  its 
flight  to  a  more  brilliant  earth,  and  a  brighter  sky." 

Moreover,  he  had  for  some  years  fostered  the  idea  that 
verse  was  obsolete  for  poetry,  and  that  rhyme  was  a  solecism. 
Poetry  should  be  the  revelation  of  nature,  and  yet  it  had 
sought  a  modern  vent  in  unnatural  language.^  He  attempted, 
therefore,  to  frame  a  language  for  poetical  expression  on  a 
plan  of  his  own,  at  once  rhythmical  and  theatrical.  And  for 
all  his  confidence  he  was  not  wholly  at  ease.  "  I  observed 
that  I  was  the  slave  of  custom,  and  never  viewed  any 
particular  incident  in  relation  to  men  in  general.  ...  I 
deeply  felt  that  there  was  a  total  want  of  nature  in  every- 
thing connected  with  me." — "When  I  look  back  on  myself 
at  this  period,  I  have  difficulty  in  conceiving  a  more  unami- 
able  character."  And  yet  instinct  revolted  against  artifici- 
ality. In  defiance  he  would  air  his  most  extreme  passions. 
To  veil  them  was  cant.  "  Never  apologise  for  showing 
feeling.  .  .  .  Remember  that  when  you  do  so,  you  apologise 
for  truth." 

But  if  something  of  all  this  is  applicable  to  1829,  still 
more  is  applicable  to  three  years  earlier,  when   Vivian  Grey 

^  Of  his  verse  I  have  not  treated.  No  reader,  however,  of  his  fine 
sonnet  on  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  inscribed  in  the  Stowe  album,  or  of 
the  wistful  lyric  addressed  from  the  yEgean  to  his  family  in  the  Hotne 
Letters,  or  of  the  "  Bignetta "  rondel  in  the  Young  Duke,  with  its 
Heinesque  close,  or  even  of  "  Spring  in  the  Apennines  "  from  Venetia, 
can  doubt  his  genuine  gift  for  poetry  and  metre. 

■  "  The  art  of  poetry  was  to  express  natural  feelings  in  unnatural 
language." — Cofitarinf. 


312  DISRAELI 

— a  miracle,  whatever  its  defects,  for  one  barely  out  of  his 
nonage — was  published  ;  ^  and  much  of  the  phase  was  only 
a  remnant  of  its  aggravated  form  in  1826.  He  had  been 
seriously  and  mysteriously  ill.  He  had  small  acquaintance 
with  the  great  world,  and  continual  conversance  with  his 
visions  of  it.  He  was  in  doubt,  even  in  despair.  His  family 
was  astonished,  even  annoyed.  In  Co7itarini,  where  his  first 
novel  figures  as  "  Manstein,"  he  has  himself  told  us  what  he 
regretted  in  Vivian  Grey.  It  was  "written  in  a  storm  and 
without  any  reflection  ;  "  its  few  images  were  all  "  probably 
copied  from  books." — "  I  thought  of  '  Manstein  '  as  of  a  picture 
painted  by  a  madman  in  the  dark." — "  I  determined  to  re- 
educate myself."  Years  afterwards,  when  these  fleeting 
phases  had  long  passed,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  the 
higher  and  healthier  moods  following  on  the  discovery  and 
pursuit  of  his  true  destiny,  he  apologised  for  Vivian  Grey 
as  a  boyish  freak,  affected  because  not  written  from  observa- 
tion of  the  world,  and  he  added  that  every  one  has  a  right 
to  be  conceited  until  he  is  successful.  He  showed  his 
opinion  of  it  by  publishing  Contarini  anonymously.  In  his 
old  age,  he  excused  its  "  inevitable  reappearance  "  by  once 
remarking  that  first  efforts  dealing  with  a  big  but  unknown 
world  must  be  exaggerated  in  style,  and  that  "  false  taste 
accompanies  exaggeration."  Had  he  been  grandiose  without 
afterwards  proving  himself  great,  the  blame  would  have  been 
deserved. 

These  are  not  the  blemishes  of  his  great  political  novels  ; 
but  there  is  in  them  also,  with  all  their  deep  thought  and 
striking  insight,  their  absolute  originality  and  stimulating 
suggestiveness,  an  air  at  times  of  the  perfumer's  shop  rather 
than  of  the  fresh  air.  Even  "  Sybil "  cries  out,  "  Oh  !  the 
saints,  'tis  a  merry  morn  !  "  "  Coningsby  "  meets  his  lady- 
love at  a  ball,  which  "  is  a  dispensation  of  almost  super- 
natural ecstasy  ;  "  and  in  Lothair  itself  we  revert  to  "barbs" 
and  "jennets."  I  think  that  these  later  defects  were  partly 
due  to  the  reaction  against  the  constraint,   repression,  and 

'  In  five  volumes.     Its  original  dedication  ran  : — 
"  To  the  Best  and  Greatest  of  Men. 
He  for  whom  it  is  intended  will  accept  and  appreciate  the  compliment ^ 
Those  for  whom  it  is  not  intended  will  do  the  same." 


LITERATURE  313 

formality  compelled  by  his  political  career.  They  were  a 
reaction  in  form,  but  in  no  case  were  they  artificial  in 
substance.  They  meant  something,  and  they  pressed  it 
home.  Disraeli  was  always  a  fantastic,  and  the  fantastic 
holds  high  rank  in  literature.  It  distinguishes  Disraeli's 
pet,  Cervantes.  But  fantasy  is  different  far  from  frippery. 
Fantasy  is  the  flicker  of  firelight,  not  the  flare  of  gas. 

Again,  it  is  always  hard  for  originality  to  win  a  first 
hearing  from  the  public.  Browning  once  remarked  in  a  letter 
that  to  fasten  the  attention  of  the  British  public  some  stroke 
of  style  is  required.  This  is  true.  Browning  is  himself  an 
example  ;  Carlyle,  another ;  for  his  early  essays  completely 
lack  that  compound  of  Jean  Paul's  German,  and  old  Mrs. 
Carlyle's  Scotch,  out  of  which  Carlylese  was  evolved.  Ruskin 
is  another  instance.  Disraeli  in  his  correspondence  is  far  more 
free  and  flowing  than  in  his  books.  Of  those  books  there  is 
least  trace  of  apparent  affectation  in  Coningsby,  which  is  the 
best  political  novel  in  any  language.  Reviewed  as  a  whole, 
his  novels  are  creative,  and  a  marvellous  medium  for  thought. 
Some  bedizenment  there  is  doubtless,  and  there  are  many 
gauds  of  fancy  ;  and  parts  of  the  characterisation  may  be 
said  to  be  written  in  italics.  It  is  true  also  that  some  of  the 
persons  are  waxworks,  but  none  of  the  characters  are,  and  his 
movement  of  ideas,  as  well  as  his  ideas  of  movement,  display 
a  flexibility  rarely  joined  to  such  piercing  penetration.  Next 
to  his  three  great  political  novels  and  in  some  respects  above 
them,  I  would  rank  Venetia,  which  has  never  met  with  such 
widespread  appreciation.  Alroy  and  Cotitarini  are  psycholo- 
gical romances,  exceptional  of  their  kind.  His  method  of 
composition  was  the  same  throughout  his  life.  He  pondered 
in  the  night  what  he  penned  in  the  morning.  And  of  his 
early  preparation  he  has  left  a  memorial — 

"...  I  prepared  myself  for  composition  in  a  very  different 
mood  from  that  in  which  I  had  poured  forth  my  fervid 
crudities  in  the  Garden-house.  Calm  and  collected,  I  con- 
structed characters  on  philosophical  principles,  and  mused 
over  a  chain  of  action  which  should  develop  the  system  of 
our  existence.  All  was  art.  I  studied  contrasts  and  group- 
ing, and  metaphysical  analysis  was  substituted  for  anatomical 
delineation,     I    was   not   satisfied   that   the   conduct   of   my 


314  DISRAELI 

creatures  should  be  influenced  merely  by  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  their  being  ;'  I  resolved  that  they  should  be  the  very 
impersonations  of  the  moods  and  passions  of  our  mind.  One 
loas  ill-regulated  %vill ;  ^  another  offered  the  formation  of  a  moral 
being  ;'^  materialism  sparkled  in  the  wild  gaiety  and  reckless 
caprice  of  one  voluptuous  girl,  while  spirit  was  vindicated  in 
the  deep  devotion  of  a  constant  and  enthusiastic  heroine.^ 
Even  the  lighter  temperaments  were  not  forgotten.  Frivolity 
smiled  and  shrugged  her  shoulders  before  us,  and  there  was 
even  a  deep  personification  of  cynic  humour." 

He  believed  in  the  influence  of  the  creative  arts  on 
creative  authorship.  He  has  pointed  out  how  the  Tuscan 
school  of  painting  trains  to  the  grandeur  of  simplicity,  the 
Venetian  to  the  gorgeousness  of  fancy.  And  of  music  he 
has  written  :  "  The  greatest  advantage  that  a  writer  can 
derive  from  it  is  that  it  teaches  most  exquisitely  the  art 
of  development.  It  is  in  remarking  the  varying  recurrence 
of  a  great  composer  to  the  same  theme,  that  a  poet  may 
learn  how  to  dwell  upon  the  phases  of  a  passion, — how  to 
exhibit  a  mood  of  mind  under  all  its  alterations,  and 
gradually  to  pour  forth  the  full  tide  of  feeling."  But  he 
thought  that  such  influences  were  a  prelude  to  creation,  not 
to  execution.  "  It  is  well  to  meditate  upon  a  subject  under 
the  influence  of  music,  but  to  execute  we  should  be  alone, 
and  supported  only  by  our  essential  and  internal  strength." 

As  is  familiar,  he  was  fastidious  even  when  he  was  florid. 
It  is  well  known  that  he  relieved  his  last  illness  by  correcting 
the  proofs  of  his  last  speeches  for  Hansard — "  the  Dunciad 
of  Politics."  "  I  will  not,"  he  said,  "  descend  to  history 
speaking  bad  grammar." 

About  national  literature  he  held  views  which  sprang 
from  his  theories  of  race.  He  considered  that  modern 
Europe  depended  overmuch  on  ideas  derived  from  Rome, 
Greece,  and  Palestine.  "  At  the  revival  of  letters  we  beheld 
the  portentous  spectacle  of  national  poets  communicating 
their  inventions  in  an  exotic  form.  .  .  .  They  sought  variety 
in  increased  artifice  of  diction,  and  substituted  the  barbaric 
clash  of  rhyme  for  the  melody  of  the  lyre.  .  .  ."  Spain,  he 
thought,  offered  the  best  field  for  a  national  novel. 

'    Vivian  Grey.  °  ContartJii  Flefning.  ^   Venetia. 


LITERATURE  315 

"  The  outdoor  life  of  the  natives  induces  a  variety  of  the 
most  picturesque  manners,  while  their  semi-civilisation  makes 
each  district  retain  with  barbarous  jealousy  its  peculiar 
customs." 

For  the  critics  he  had  a  smile  at  the  first  as  at  the  last. 
They  "  admired  what  had  been  written  in  haste  and  without 
premeditation,  and  generally  disapproved  of  what  had  cost 
me  much  forethought  and  been  executed  with  great  care.  .  .  . 
My  perpetual  efforts  at  being  imaginative  were  highly  repro- 
bated. ...  I  puzzled  them,  and  no  one  offered  a  prediction 
as  to  my  future  career.  ...  I  thought  no  more  of  criticism. 
The  breath  of  man  has  never  influenced  me  much,  for  I 
depend  more  upon  myself  than  upon  others.  .  .  ." 

At  "  Reisenburg  "  in  Vivian  Grey  were  two  great  journals 
edited  on  opposite  principles.  In  the  one,  every  review  was 
written  by  a  personal  enemy  ;  in  the  other  by  a  personal 
friend.  And  there  was  a  third  by  that  "  literary  comet," 
"  Von  Chronicle,"  the  historical  novelist,  who  believed  that  in 
romance  costume  was  superior  to  character.  His  novel  of 
"  Rienzi "  terminated  with  the  scene  of  the  Coronation, 
because  "  after  that,  what  is  there  in  the  career  of  Rienzi 
which  would  afford  matter  .  .  .  }  All  that  afterwards  occurs 
is  a  mere  contest  of  passions  and  a  development  of  character  ; 
but  where  is  a  procession,  or  a  triumph,  or  a  marriage  .  .  ."> 
Not  a  single  name  is  given  in  the  work  for  which  he  has  not 
contemporary  authority  ;  but  what  he  is  particularly  proud 
of  are  his  oaths.  Nothing  has  cost  him  more  trouble  than 
the  management  of  the  swearing  ;  and  the  Romans,  you 
know,  are  a  most  profane  nation.  .  .  .  The  '  'sblood  '  of  the 
sixteenth  century  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  'zounds' 
of  the  seventeenth.  .  .  .  The  most  amusing  thing  is  to  contrast 
this  mode  of  writing  works  of  fiction  with  the  prevalent  and 
fashionable  mode  of  writing  works  of  history.  .  .  .  Here  we 
write  novels  like  history  and  history  like  novels.  All  our 
facts  are  fancy,  and  all  our  imagination  reality." 

Excellent  fooling,  this  !  Through  the  long  range  of  his 
writings  Disraeli  did  more  than  any  novelist  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  to  impress  on  the  ordinary  mind  not  only  the 
pleasures  but  the  powers  of  the  Imagination. 


CHAPTER   X 

CAREER 

THE  secrets  of  success,  Disraeli  has  told  us  more  than 
once,  are  knowledge  of  your  capacities,  constancy  of 
purpose,  and  mastery  of  your  subject.  It  is  seldom 
that  in  one  brain  these  qualities  of  grip,  mental  and 
moral,  are  fully  combined  ;  and,  rarer  still,  when  they  do 
reside  together,  is  the  addition  of  the  third  requisite  named 
by  him — patience.  It,  with  the  tact  it  bears,  is  as  necessary 
for  the  servant  as  the  master. 

"The  magic  of  the  character,"  he  says  of  the  courier  in 
Cofitarini,  "  was  his  patience.  This  made  him  quicker  and 
readier  and  more  successful  than  all  other  men.  He  prepared 
everything,  and  anticipated  wants  of  which  we  could  not  think." 
The  preparation  for  career — apart  from  its  entitling  endow- 
ments— should  be  education  ;  but  education,  he  held,  even  in 
its  prescientific  days,  often  started  with  a  vital  mistake.  It 
proceeded  on  words,  grammars,  and  systems.  It  should 
proceed  on  a  knowledge  of  pre-disposition  ;  others  should 
know  a  man  before  he  is  called  upon  to  know  himself. 
"  What  we  want  is  to  discover  the  character  of  a  man  at  his 
birth,  and  found  his  education  upon  his  nature.  .  .  .  All  is  an 
affair  of  organisation.  .  .  .  Among  men  there  are  some  points 
of  similarity  and  sympathy.  There  are  few  alike  ;  there  are 
some  totally  unlike  the  mass.  .  .  .  Until  we  know  more  of 
ourselves,  of  what  use  are  our  systems  }  .  .  .  We  speculate 
upon  the  character  of  man  ;  we  divide  and  we  subdivide. 
We  have  our  generals,  our  sages,  our  statesmen.  There  is 
not  a  modification  of  mind  that  is  not  mapped  out  in  our 
great  atlas  of  intelligence.  We  cannot  be  wrong,  because  we 
have  mapped  out  the  past ;  and  we  are  famous  for  discovering 
316 


CAREER  317 

the  future  when  it  has  taken  place.  Napoleon  is  First  Consul, 
and  would  found  a  dynasty.  .  .  .  But  what  use  is  the  dis- 
covery, when  the  Consul  is  already  tearing  off  his  republican 
robe  and  snatching  the  imperial  diadem }  And  suppose, 
which  has  happened,  and  may  and  will  happen  again — suppose 
a  being  of  a  different  organisation  from  Napoleon  or  Cromwell 
placed  in  the  same  situation — a  being  gifted  with  a  combi- 
nation of  intelligence  hitherto  unknown — where,  then,  is  our 
moral  philosophy  .-'  How  are  we  to  speculate  upon  results 
which  are  to  be  produced  by  unknown  causes  ?  .  .  .  The 
whole  system  of  moral  philosophy  is  a  delusion,  fit  only  for 
the  play  of  sophists  in  an  age  of  physiological  ignorance." 
So,  too,  he  had  reason  to  think  of  some  physicians  "who 
decide  by  precedents  which  have  no  resemblance,  and  never 
busy  themselves  about  the  idiosyncrasies  of  their  patients."  ^ 
"Until,"  he  wrote  again,  "men  are  educated  with  reference 
to  their  nature,  there  will  be  no  end  of  domestic  fracas."  He 
remembered  his  grandfather's  misconstruction  of  his  father's 
temperament,  and  his  uncle's  of  his  own.  Even  illness  he 
considered  "  as  much  a  part  of  necessary  education  as  travel 
or  study."  And  his  constant  idea,  that  national  literature 
ought  to  be  native  and  not  imported,  allied  itself  to  his 
educational  ideas  also.  "  The  duty  of  education  is  to  give 
ideas.  When  our  limited  intelligence  was  confined  to  the 
literature  of  two  dead  languages,  it  was  necessary  to  acquire 
them."  .  .  .  But  now  each  nation  has  its  literature.  .  .  . 
Let  education,  then,  be  confined  to  the  national  literature,  and 
we  should  soon  perceive  the  beneficial  effects  upon  the  mind 
of  the  student.  Study  would  then  be  a  profitable  delight.  I 
pity  the  poor  Gothic  victim  of  the  grammar  and  the  lexicon. 
The  Greeks,  who  were  masters  of  composition,  were  ignorant 
of  all  languages  but  their  own.  They  concentrated  the  genius 
of  the  study  of  expression  upon  one  tongue.  To  tJiis  they  owe 
that  blended  simplicity  and  strength  of  style,  zvhich  the  imitative 
Romans,  with  all  their  splendour,  never  attained.  .  .  .  The 
ancients  invented  their  Governments  according  to  their  wants ; 
the  tnoderns  have  adopted  foreign  policies,  and  then  modelled 

1  Cf.  Bolingbroke's  "  Compare  the  situations  without  comparing  the 
characters." 


3i8  DISRAELI 

their  conduct  upon  this  borrowed  regidation.  This  circumstance 
has  occasioned  our  manners  and  customs  to  be  so  confused, 
absurd,  and  unphilosophical.  What  business  had  we,  for 
instance,  to  adopt  the  Roman  law — a  law  foreign  to  our 
manners,  and  consequently  disadvantageous  ?  He  who  pro- 
foundly meditates  upon  the  situation  of  modern  Europe  will 
also  discover  how  productive  of  misery  has  been  the  senseless 
adoption  of  Oriental  customs  by  Northern  peoples.  Whence 
came  that  divine  right  of  kings  which  has  deluged  so  many 
countries  with  blood  ? — that  pastoral  and  Syrian  law  of  tithes, 
which  may  yet  shake  the  foundations  of  so  many  ancient 
institutions  ?  "  The  spirit  of  this  passage  was  ever  present  to 
his  mind.  He  went  even  further.  He  has  asserted  that  the 
mere  fact  of  copying  or  assuming  ideas  deprives  them  of  their 
native  virtue,  and  that  all  that  is  second-hand  loses  the  vigour 
and  flavour  of  its  originals  in  imitating  them. 

Preparation  must  be  succeeded,  and,  indeed,  attended,  by 
meditation.  I  shall  return  to  this  idea  shortly,  and  consider 
it  in  his  own  instance.  But  there  comes  a  juncture  when 
action  must  rise  from  the  chrysalis  of  thought  which  encloses  it. 

"...  You  must  renounce  meditation.  Action  is  now  your 
part.  Meditation  is  culture.  It  is  well  to  think  until  a  man 
has  discovered  his  genius  and  developed  his  faculties,  but 
then  let  him  put  his  intelligence  in  motion.  Act,  act,  act  with- 
out ceasing,  and  you  will  no  longer  talk  of  the  vanity  of  life." 

The  perpetual  thought  of  death  he  considered  harmful. 
To  live  in  present  duty  and  energy  was  truer  piety  than  to 
brood  on  the  coming  hour  when  no  man  can  work  ;  and  the 
very  sense  of  existence  is  a  great  happiness,  and  leads  to  hope. 
"...  If,  in  striking  the  balance  of  sensation,  misery  were 
found  to  predominate,  no  human  being  would  endure  the  curse 
of  existence.  .  .  .  "  ^  He  would  surely  have  echoed  that  fine 
saying  of  Gladstone — "  Indifference  to  the  world  is  not  love 
of  God."  He  was  infinitely  sanguine  in  outlook,  although 
extremely  cautious  in  expedients.  I  may  recall  that  when 
Coningsby  has  missed  his  fortune,  Sidonia  consoles  him  by  a 
series  of  more  disagreeable  contingencies. 

Such,  then,  were  for  him  the  equipments  of  career.     Of  its 
'  This  idea  was  emphasised  by  BoHngbroke. 


CAREER  3T9 

arts  in  attaining  what  it  designs  to  exercise  for  the  good  of 
others,  much  will  have  been  gleaned  from  many  citations  as 
to  tact  and  temper.  There  is  one  other  maxim  of  worldly- 
wisdom  which  is  worth  recording :  "  If  you  wish  a  man  to  be 
your  friend,  allow  him  to  confute  you."  His  idea  of  power 
was  that  it  was  "  a  divine  trust,"  but  it  was  also  a  cumulative 
fund.  "  The  very  exercise  of  power  only  teaches  me  that  it 
may  be  wielded  for  a  greater  purpose."  Mrs.  Disraeli  said, 
when  her  husband  had,  in  his  own  words,  "  climbed  to  the  top 
of  the  greasy  pole  at  last,"  "  You  don't  know  my  Dizzy,  what 
great  plans  he  has  long  matured  for  the  good  and  greatness 
of  England.  But  they  have  made  him  wait  and  drudge  so 
long — and  now  time  is  against  him." 

It  is  not  here  my  province  to  track  the  details  of  his  own 
career.  This  book  deals  with  his  ideas.  But  with  the  interest- 
ing psychology  of  his  early  temperament  I  mean  to  deal,  for 
it  concerns  his  ideas. 

I  might,  had  his  career  been  within  my  scope,  have  cleared 
some  doubts,  and  explained  many  misunderstandings.  I  could 
have  shown,  as  I  have  shown  elsewhere,  the  real  truth  about 
the  Peel  letter,  and  the  events  of  1851-52.  I  should  have 
pointed  out  the  dividing  lines  in  his  campaign  and  the 
halting-places  in  his  march,  the  Eastern  tour,  his  marriage, 
his  estrangement  from  Peel,  the  Crimean  War,  his  steady 
progress  in  social  improvements,  his  Reform  Bills  of  1859 
and  1867,  the  strong  effect  on  his  outlook  of  events  of  magni- 
tude,  and  the  last  act  of  the  drama — his  imperialism.  I 
might  also  have  explained  the  moot  points  connected  with 
the  years  1833,  1835,  1837,  1846,  185 1,  and  1860.^  I  might, 
perhaps,  have  been  able  to  shed  light  on  the  delayed  Malmes- 
bury  despatches  in  1859.  Nor  should  I  have  shirked  his 
mistakes,  notably  the  motion  of  censure  on  Lord  Palmerston. 
And  I  would  have  dwelt  on  the  striking  influences  which  his 
sister  and  his  wife  exercised  over  him. 

But  one  brief  topic  I  shall  skim  before  I  finally  trace 
something  of  his  own  peculiar  development. 

'  Hume's  election  support,  the  challenge  of  O'Connell,  the  cultivation 
of  Chandos,  the  "  Canning"  episode,  the  surrender  of  "protection,"  and 
the  delay  in  producing  the  Indian  despatches,  respectively. 


320  DISRAELI 

Much  has  been  talked  of  his  alien  "aloofness."     As  for 
alien,  Mazarin  was  in  this  sense  an  "  alien,"  not  to  speak  of 
the  less  worthy  examples,  Alberoni  and  Ripperda.      In  the 
eighteenth   century   a  Scotch    premier   was    in   England   an 
"  alien."     Augustus  was  partly,  Napoleon  wholly,  an  "  alien." 
And   what    but    "aliens"    were    Manin,    Gambetta,    Lasker, 
Midhat,   and   Emin?      Nobody  understood   his   countrymen 
more  shrewdly  at   once  and   sympathetically   than   Disraeli. 
His  was  no  sham  patriotism,  and  he  loved  John  Bull  fondly, 
even  when  he  poked  fun   at  him.      Nor  had  any  pondered 
more  deeply  the  lessons  which  history  imparts.     There  are, 
however,  two  grains  of  truth  in  this  reproach.     He  did  regard 
the  world  and  its  history  as  a  fleeting  show.     He  believed  in 
recurring  cycles.     What  is  now  old  was  once  new  ;  what  is 
new  will  one  day  be  old.     So  long  as   individuals  worked 
their  best,  what  did   it  matter  ?      One  civilisation  succeeds 
another,  and  the  last  state  of  a  mighty  nation  is  often  worse 
than  the  first.     "  The   whirligig  of   Time   brings    about  his 
revenges."      In   this  sense — the  historical  and  philosophical 
sense — he   might   be   called   indifferentist.      And   again,    he 
understood    England,  but  it   took  long  for  his  countrymen 
to  understand  him.     When  they  came  to  do  so,  he  met  with 
that    generosity  which    immense   bravery   and   perseverance 
always  eventually  receive  ;  but,  meanwhile,  he  had  struggled 
against  a  jealous  malice  which  is,  perhaps,  peculiar  to  politics. 
He  had  "educated"  his  followers,  but  suspicion  and  misunder- 
standing hampered  his  every  step.    During  two  spans  of  some 
six  years  each  (without  counting  his  early  period)  he  had  to 
play  the  losing  game  with  an  unruffled  brow,  an  encouraging 
smile,  and  an  unwearied  resource,  which  included  the  transfor- 
mation of  a  party  and  foundation  of  a  political  magazine.     He 
had  to  hearten  the  despairing,  the  recalcitrant,  the  slothful, 
and  the  sullen.      He  had  to  deplore  the  stupidity  of  missed 
opportunities  ;  ^  he  had  to  humour  the  engrossers  of  office  ;  and, 
even,  in  the  intervals  of  power,  to  bend  his  neck  to  the  grind- 
stone of  finance.     "  I  am  not,"  he  once  sarcastically  rejoined, 
alluding  to  Sir  Charles  Wood  opposite,  "  a  born  Chancellor 
of  the   Exchequer."      His   hour   struck.      At  sixty-four   he 
'  Notably  in  1855. 


CAREER  321 

began  to  gov^ern  England  on  lines  planned  and  with  projects 
pondered  full  thirty  years  earlier ;  and  even  then  he  had 
to  confront  anonymous  endeavours  to  sap  his  leadership 
from  quarters  which  should  have  disarmed  suspicion.  His 
own  mind  was  impartial  in  the  extreme.  The  same  "  aloof- 
ness "  which  he  is  alleged  to  have  displayed  to  British  affairs, 
he  certainly  displayed  in  his  books  with  regard  to  Eastern 
emirs,  who  talk  with  the  aspirations  of  the  West.  "  Alroy  " 
himself  is  very  European,  and  never  more  so  than  when  he 
disdains  the  isolating  fanaticism  of  "  Jabaster." 

Much,  too,  has  been  prattled  about  his  "  audacity,"  and  I 
notice  that  the  hackneyed  quotation  about  "  L'audacc "  is 
usually  in  these  diatribes  ascribed  to  Danton,  and  not  to  its 
author,  Beaumarchais.  Many  of  these  "  audacities  "  are  now 
recognised  as  wisdom  ;  but  it  has  been  after-wisdom  that  has 
recognised  it  ;  though  Disraeli  was  usually  Prometheus. 

"  There  are  times,"  he  said  in  one  of  his  early  novels, 
"  when  I  am  influenced  by  a  species  of  what  I  may  term  happy 
audacity,  for  it  is  a  mixture  of  recklessness  and  self-confidence, 
which  has  a  very  felicitous  effect  upon  the  animal  spirits.  At 
these  moments  I  never  calculate  consequences,  yet  everything 
seems  to  go  right.  I  feel  in  good  fortune  ;  the  ludicrous  side 
of  everything  occurs  to  me  ;  I  think  of  nothing  but  grotesque 
images.  I  astonish  people  by  bursting  into  laughter  apparently 
without  a  cause.  .  .  ." 

Disraeli  was  naturally  sensitive,  but  he  studied  self-repres- 
sion. No  one  was  more  cut  to  the  quick  by  contumely  or 
impertinence  ;  no  one  was  more  determined  to  hide  the  wound. 
"  If,"  once  observed  Jowett,  "  Dizzy  were  on  the  brink  of  the 
bottomless  pit,  and  each  moment  about  to  fall  into  it,  his  look 
would  never  betray  the  fact ;  such  is  his  pluck  and  power  of 
countenance."  As  he  bore  himself  towards  provocation,  he 
bore  himself  towards  pain.  The  last  great  speech  he  ever 
made  was  delivered  with  youthful  jauntiness,  yet  he  was 
forced  to  take  a  drug  in  order  to  deliver  it.  "  One  must 
meet  death  boldly,"  he  exclaimed  to  an  intimate  friend, 
after  he  had  read  the  denial  of  the  doctors'  assurance  in 
their  faces. 

Disraeli's  intellectual  shortcomings  are  those,  it  seems  to 

V 


322  DISRAELI 

mc,  belonging  to  an  intense,  as  opposed  to  a  diffused  imagi- 
nation. His  mind  shed  both  heat  and  light,  but  both  the 
light  and  the  heat  were  over-concentrated.  The  same  applies, 
perhaps,  to  his  will,  and  to  his  character  also.  Everything  in 
him  was  focussed.  His  ideas  possessed  him,  and  he  chafed, 
like  a  sculptor  at  work,  to  embody  them.  Outside  the  forms 
of  those  ideas  he  could  not  penetrate.  In  relation  to  them, 
he  judged  all  junctures  and  all  endeavours.  It  is  this  averse- 
ness  to  the  abstract  that  pervades  his  every  outlook.  He 
could  not  conceive  of  ideas  as  unmaterialised  or  disembodied. 
They  had  been  the  companions  of  his  boyish  solitude. 

"...  The  clustering  of  their  beauty  seemed  an  evidence 
of  poetic  power  :  the  management  of  these  bright  guests  was 
an  art  of  which  I  was  ignorant.  I  received  them  all,  and  found 
myself  often  writing  only  that  they  might  be  accommodated." 

As  a  child,  his  ruling  mood  was  that  of  reverie.  He  had 
steeped  himself  in  his  father's  library,  and  his  extraordinary 
imagination  played  upon  the  poets,  the  philosophers,  and, 
above  all,  the  historians.  Dim  dreams  from  the  vast  pro- 
cession of  the  centuries  took  shape  and  became  flesh.  He 
beheld  the  great  men  and  movements  marching  before  him. 
Incarnate  presences  peopled  his  loneliness,  and  called  to  him 
with  their  voices — 

"  The  votary  of  a  false  idea,  I  linger  in  this  shadowy  life 
and  feed  on  silent  images  which  no  eye  but  mine  can  gaze 
upon,  till  at  length  they  are  invested  with  the  terrible  circum- 
stances of  life,  and  breathe,  and  act.  and  form  a  stirring  world 
of  fate,  beauty,  time,  death,  and  glory.  And  then,  from  out 
this  dazzling  wilderness  of  deeds,  I  wander  forth  and  wake 
.  .  .  horrible !  horrible !  "  "  Often  in  reverie  had  I  been  an 
Alberoni,  a  Ripperda,  a  Richelieu.  .  .  ."  "  I  sat  in  moody 
silence,  revolving  in  reverie  without  the  labour  of  thought.  .  .  ." 

He  felt  that  he  was  not  as  others.  He  found  that  though 
at  once  proud  and  gentle,  as  a  boy,  his  family  were  sometimes 
eyed  askance  as  foreigners.  He  wished  to  frequent  a  public 
school ;  it  was  deemed  unadvisable.  The  harder  side  of  his 
nature  began  to  assert  itself.  He  would  triumph  over  all, 
hew  down  every  obstacle.  His  father  suggested  the  Uni- 
versity.   He  rejected  the  offer.    Why  waste  his  time  in  words 


CAREER  323 

that  might  prove  a  school  for  deeds  ?  "  A  miserable  lot  is 
mine  to  feel  everything  and  be  nothing."  He  was  destined, 
appointed,  reserved.  As  he  grew  older  these  convictions 
deepened.  "Am  I  a  man,  and  a  man  of  strong  passions  and 
deep  thoughts .?  And  shall  I,  like  a  vile  beggar,  upon  my 
knees  crave  the  rich  heritage  that  is  my  own  by  right  ? "  But 
how  ?  The  very  thought  bewildered,  oppressed,  and  em- 
bittered him.  "  Everything  is  mysterious,  though  I  have 
always  been  taught  the  reverse."  In  a  dangerous  moment 
he  began  to  lay  it  down  as  a  principle  "that  all  considera- 
tions must  yield  to  the  gratification  of  my  ambition."  Life 
without  power,  and  power  that  he  felt  deserved,  was  in- 
tolerable. His  father  remonstrated.  He  warned  him  against 
the  fatal  tyranny  of  the  imagination.  "  I  think,"  he  said, 
"you  have  talents  indeed  for  anything  .  .  .  that  a  rational 
being  can  desire  to  attain  ;  but  you  sadly  lack  judgment." 
The  boy  replied,  "  I  wish,  sir,  to  influence  men,  ...  I  am 
impressed  with  a  most  earnest  and  determined  resolution  to 
become  a  practical  man.  You  must  not  judge  of  me  by  my 
boyish  career.  The  very  feelings  that  made  me  revolt  at  the 
discipline  of  schools  will  insure  my  subordination  in  the  world. 
I  took  no  interest  in  their  petty  pursuits,  and  their  minute 
legislation  interfered  with  my  extended  views."  In  answer, 
he  was  admonished  that  a  nature  so  "  headstrong  and  impru- 
dent "  would  lead  to  situations  ridiculous  and  even  dangerous  ; 
that  his  lack  of  regulated  balance  would  warp  his  excellent 
instincts.  The  boy  persisted  that,  if  not  by  deeds  yet  by 
words,  he  would  sway  his  fellows.  "  Mix  in  society,"  re- 
joined his  father,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  "  and  I  will 
answer  that  you  lose  your  poetic  feeling  ;  for  in  you,  as  in  the 
great  majority,  it  is  not  a  creative  faculty,  originating  in  a 
peculiar  organisation,  but  simply  the  consequence  of  a  nervous 
susceptibility  that  is  common  to  all."  The  youth  continued 
to  fret,  and  brood,  and  calculate.  He  felt  method  within  him 
as  well  as  frenzy.  In  his  old  age  he  was  once  driving  past 
Bradenham  with  a  lady  who  knew  how  happy  his  home  rela- 
tions had  been.  "  Ah  !  "  he  sighed,  "  there  is  where  I  passed 
my  miserable  youth." — "  Miserable!"  she  replied  ;  "impossible! 
Surely  you  were  happy  there." — "  Not  then.     I  was  devoured 


324  DISRAELI 

by  an  irresistible  ambition  which  I  could  not  gratify."  ^  It 
reminds  me  of  that  passage  in  Swift  where  the  great  dean 
ascribes  the  first  pricks  of  ambition,  in  the  career  which  the 
inequalities  of  his  situation  had  urged,  to  the  rage  and  morti- 
fication he  experienced  as  a  boy  in  failing  to  land  a  big  fish. 
He  grew  distracted  ;  for  a  time  he  had  to  inhabit  a  darkened 
room.  With  the  Austins  he  travelled  in  Germany  and  Italy. 
The  result  was  Vivian  Grey — the  "  Don  Juan  "  of  politics. 

The  circumstances  and  results  of  the  book  I  have  touched 
in  the  preceding  chapter.  Disraeli  grew  ashamed  of  its 
fashionable  success.  The  world  was  not  merely  his  oyster. 
He  would  elevate  and  benefit  by  it.  He  mixed  in  society,  but 
it  neither  raised  his  spirits  nor  slaked  his  thirst,  although  it 
did  help  him  to  see  his  measure  and  stature  among  mankind. 
That  commerce  with  the  world  is  the  best  cure  for  misjudged 
ambition  he  pressed  in  his  fine  address  to  youth  at  the 
Manchester  Athenaeum  ;  but  ambition  itself  he  regarded  as 
elevating  for  man.  At  the  crisis,  however,  that  we  have 
reached,  his  ambitions  were  still  unsettled.  He  began  to  be 
soured  and  sceptical  both  of  himself,  of  mankind,  and  of  God. 
His  spiritual  fibre  was  shaken.  His  sister,  with  talents  nearly 
equal  to  his,  and  faith  and  charity  superior,  came  to  his 
rescue.  She  healed  his  wounds  ;  she  ennobled  his  standard  ; 
she  comforted  him  with  her  entire  belief  in  his  great  future. 
She  restored  him  to  his  higher  self. 

Once  more  the  shadow  of  ill  health  fell  across  the  young 
Disraeli's  footsteps  ;  this  time  a  very  critical  malady — a  com- 
plete nervous  breakdown.  He  "  fainted  as  he  dressed."  He 
even  had  convulsions.  He  was  overwhelmed  by  strange  noises 
in  his  head.  "...  The  falls  of  Niagara  could  not  overpower 
the  infernal  roaring  that  I  alone  heard."  ^  Travel  was  pre- 
scribed.   He  departed  for  two  years  from  Europe,  and  mended. 

*  This  is  told  in  one  of  Sir  Mountstuart  Grant  Duff's  "  Diaries." 
'  It  is  noticeable,  as  regards  the  habitual  recurrence  of  his  phrases, 
that  in  his  early  letters  he  always  nicknames  this  first  illness  "the 
enemy,"  the  same  as  he  used  to  his  physicians  in  his  last.  His  early  ill 
health  quickened  his  continual  sympathy  with  suffering.  No  better 
instance  could  be  read  than  his  speech  at  the  opening  of  the  Hospital  for 
Consumption,  with  his  beautiful  references  to  Jenny  Lind,  as  song 
ministering  to  sorrow. 


CAREER  325 

Even  at  this  time,  with  the  spectres  of  doubt  and  illness 
athwart  his  way,  he  could  not  stifle  the  secret  assurance  of 
his  destiny.  I  have  seen  a  letter  to  a  friend,  who  had  shared 
a  financial  misadventure,  in  which  he  deplores  his  condition, 
but  declares  that  "  something  within  me  whispers  that  one  day 
I  shall  be  famous.  Be  assured,  if  ever  that  time  comes,  you 
will  be  the  first  that  I  shall  remember." 

He  returned,  found  his  place,  his  mission,  and  his  ideals. 
But  still  his  discreet  family  opposed  themselves  to  his 
entrance  into  public  life.  It  was  incredible,  impossible, 
absurd.  "  So  much  for  the  maddest  of  mad  acts,  as  my  uncle 
said,"  he  wrote  to  his  sister  on  his  first  return  to  Parliament. 

Every  one  remembers  the  story  of  his  meeting  with  Lord 
Melbourne,  and  his  answer,  true  or  not,  as  to  what  the  premier 
could  "  do  for  him."  "  I  wish  to  be  Prime  Minister."  At  any 
rate,  Mrs.  Austin,  in  extreme  old  age,  recalled  a  party  at  her 
house  about  this  period,  when  the  young  Disraeli  explained 
his  plans  for  England,  "  when  I  am  Prime  Minister,"  amid 
laughter  and  surprise.  "  You  will  see,"  he  said,  bringing  his 
fist  down  on  the  mantelpiece,  "  I  shall  be  Prime  Minister." 
He  felt,  as  he  wrote  to  his  sister  after  attending  a  great 
debate,  that  "  he  could  floor  them  all."  His  confidence  in 
himself,  like  his  sister's  in  him,  was  colossal. 

So  I  read  his  earliest  years  from  his  earliest  books. 
Thenceforward  he  marched  from  strength  to  strength,  and 
he  employed  power  when  he  obtained  it  conscientiously 
according  to  his  best  lights  for  the  improvement  of  the  people 
and  the  glory  of  the  Empire. 

And  yet  how  strange  it  is,  that  at  the  annual  gatherings  on 
his  death-day,  celebrated  by  the  romance  of  his  memory  and  his 
flower,  the  successors  who,  faltering  from  his  footsteps,  honour 
the  good  will  of  his  enduring  popularity,  have  never  breathed 
his  name !  I  can  see  him  smile  in  the  shades  ;  for  he  found 
his  party  a  quagmire,  and  he  left  it  a  township.  At  all  times 
he  toiled  hard  and  long,  though  sometimes  by  fits  and  starts  ; 
and  a  study  was  reserved  ready  for  his  visits  at  Bradenham. 
Although  in  his  later  years  he  would  sometimes  play  at 
indolence,  it  was  really  against  the  grain.  The  occasional 
air    of    listlessness    which    society    remarked    in    his   latter 


326  DISRAELI 

days  was  the  attendant  of  failing  health,  and  only  filmed  an 
activity  that  neither  age  nor  illness  could  overcome.  In  the 
long  recess  of  1848  he  was  working  over  ten  hours  a  day, 
rising  at  five  and  retiring  at  nine.  In  the  long  session  of 
1852  he  was  working  considerably  more.  To  the  last  he  read 
the  classics  while  he  dined.  As  he  lay  dying  he  corrected 
his  speeches.  He  never  relaxed  that  infinite  interest  in 
everything  and  everybody  of  purport  and  meaning,  which 
the  French  well  style  "  la  grande  curiosite." 

When  he  died,  amid  national  mourning,  the  late  Lord 
Salisbury,  after  singling  out  his  unquenchable  zeal  for  the 
glory  of  Britain,  lasting  to  a  period  when  "  the  gratification 
of  every  possible  desire  negatived  the  presumption  of  any 
inferior  motive,"  adverted  to  his  "  patience,  his  gentleness,  his 
unswerving  and  unselfish  loyalty  to  his  colleagues  and  fellow- 
labourers."  Indisputably  his  moral  character  was  high.  With- 
out question  he,  like  Gladstone,  raised  the  tone  of  parliamen- 
tary life  from  that  of  the  days  when  politics  were  merely  a 
squabble  for  place  and  a  toss-up  as  to  "whether  England 
should  be  ruled  by  Tory  nobles  or  by  Whig."  His  tone  may 
not  always  have  chimed  with  certain  forms  or  formulas  of 
earnestness,  but  he  acted  up  to  his  own  high  standard.  "It 
was  impossible,"  said  the  late  Lord  Granville,  "  to  deny  that 
Lord  Beaconsfield  had  played  a  great  part  in  British  History. 
No  one  could  deny  his  rare  and  splendid  gifts  and  his  force  of 
character."  Character  will  always  appeal  to  England.  "  But," 
pursued  the  orator,  after  noticing  his  tolerance  and  forbearance, 
"  he  undoubtedly  possessed  the  power  of  appealing  to  the 
imagination,  not  only  of  his  countrymen,  but  of  foreigners,^  and 
that  power  is  not  destroyed  by  death." 

My  book  opened  with  Personality,  Ideas,  and  Imagination. 
With  Imagination,  Ideas,  and  Personality  it  shall  close.  They 
can  turn  and  change  the  semblances  of  material  "facts,"  for 
they  abide  behind  the  veil  of  time  and  of  existence. 

'  At    Berlin    Bismarck    said    of    him,  "  Disraeli   is    England."     His 
translated  works  were,  and  I  believe  are,  read  widely  abroad. 


INDEX 


Addington,  82 

Addison,  286 

Afghanistan,  215  ct  scq.  and  ;;.  i 

Ali  Pacha,  271 

America,   on   primitive   and    Puritans, 

250  J  "landed"  democracy,  67,  91, 
n.  I,  246,  251  ;  Canadian  "retalia- 
tion" on,  136,  n.  I  ;  Church,  148- 
152,  204,  244 ;  Disraeli's  discern- 
ment regarding,  48,  234,  246-247  ; 
civil  war  would  transform  colonial 
into  imperial  spirit,  247-250  ;  Anglo- 
phobia, his  wise  distinctions  as  to, 
250-253  ;  Fenianism,  insight  regard- 
ing, 253-256  ;   the  negro  difficulty, 

251  ;  manners,  283 ;  Disraeli  on 
marriage  in,  287  ;  manners,  283 

Antonelli,  175 
Austen,  Jane,  302,  305 
Austin,  ^Irs.,  10,  23,  31,  270 
Austria,    20S,     226,    240 ;     Disraeli's 
attitude  towards,  241,  291 

Baring,  Thomas,  269 
Basevi,  George,  269 

,  Nathaniel  (alluded  to),  269 

Baumer  (valet),  (alluded  to),  26 

13eaumarchais,  309 

Bentinck,  Lord  G.,  41,  11.  I,  42,  n.  i, 

304 
Berlin   Congress,    45,    217,   227,   231, 

235,  239  ;  Disraeli  at,  326,  n.  i 
Bismarck,  Prince,  45,  241,  326,  11.  i 
Blessington,    Laily,    47,    271,    ;/.    2; 

Disraeli  on,  277  and  notes 
Bliss,  Dr.  (antiquarian),  269 
Bolingbroke,  Lord,  3  ;  Disraeli's  clue, 
II,  24,  25,  71.   I,  46,  51,  //.  2,  72,    I 
83,  71.  2  ;  Utrecht  Treaty,  129,  130, 
172,    n.    2 ;    ideas    of    monarchy —    | 
their  influence  on  Disraeli,  194-198,    I 
203,  n.  2,  206,  234,  259  I 

Borthwick,  125  j 

Bowring,  Sir  J.,  221  | 

Brand  es,  9  I 


Bright,  John,  98,  109,  (1879)  206  ;  and 
Gladstone,  207-208  ;  his  tribute  to 
Disraeli,  247 

British  Columbia  (1S58),  200 

Brontes,  the,  301 

Brooks,  Shirley,  25,  «.  I 

Brougham,  Lord,  51 

Browning,  R.,  313 

Bryce,  Rt.  Hon.  J.,  9,  247 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  271 

Bulgaria  and  Eastern  Roumelia,  225, 
226  et  seq.  ;  the  two  portions  only 
re-pieced  through  the  "autonomy" 
implanted  by  Disraeli  in  one  of  them, 
227 

Bulwer,  Sir  H.,  43,  n. 

Burke,  Edmund,  3,  25,  44,  «.,  46,  55, 
67,  72,  83,  n.  2,  194,  198,  203,  n.  2, 
280 

Burney,  Frances,  268 

Byron,  Lord,  47,  183,  270,  275  ;  Dis- 
raeli on,  276  ;  in  Ixion,  276,  n.  i  ; 
"  Cadurcis,"  293,  321  ;  quoted,  15 


Canada,  136,  n.  i,  137,  200  and  ;/.  2, 
206,  w.  I,  247,  250 

Canning,  3,  25  ;  dedication  to,  48,  55, 
195,  198 

Cape,  the,  201,  213 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  34,  35,  58,  125,  126; 
identity  of  ideas  wiih  Disraeli's,  62, 
77,  85-92,  119,  238,  71.  I;  pictur- 
esque, 303  ;  style,  313 

Carnarvon,  Lord,  213 

Caroline,  Queen,  24,  71.  4,  277,  «.  2 

Castlcreagh,  Lord,  "solidarity  of 
Europe,"  209 

Cervantes,  293 

Chartism,  II,  61,  87,  106;  Disraeli's 
sympathy  with  Chartists  in  1840, 
113  ;  in  1852. ..26,  n.  I 

Chatham,  Lord,  3;  Disraeli  on,  24, 
74,  195,  200  ;  empire,  208 

China,  221,  234 


327 


INDEX 


Churcli,  69,  70,  90;    one  of  ihe  pro-   ' 
blcnis,     1830-40 ...  113,     125;     and   I 
"Labour,"  126,  127,  129;  Disraeli's   I 
historical  and  social  ideas  on  Church    ; 
and  Theocracy,  145-156;  Anglican-   1 
ism  and  Puritanism,   149,    152-155;    | 
undoing  of  national  Church  a  disaster   [ 
for  Nonconformists,    153-154;   atti- 
tude   to    latter,    163-165  ;    science,    [ 
materialism,  inditTereiitism,  "higher"   j 
criticism,  rationalism,  156-158,  165- 
166;     Ritualism,     170;     education 
(</.z:),  167-169;  discipline,  169-170; 
Romanism,    171-178;    "The    great 
house  of  Israel,"  179;  "  Corybantic 
Christianity,"       174  ;       Radicalism, 
Liberalism,    and     Romanism,     175, 
(1836)  184;  Irish,  262-266 

Churchill,  Lord  Randolph,  286 

Clanricarde,  Lady,  295 

Clay,  J.,  270 

Cobbett,  105 

Cobden,  R.,  34;  and  Gladstone,  40, 
;/.  2,  86,  238 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  125 

Colonies,  32,  49,  51  ;  Disraeli's  early 
interest  in,  199 ;  federations  and 
constitutions,  201  ;  critical  state  of 
home  feeling  regarding,  1839-53, 
201  ;  effect  of  democracy  on,  202  ;  | 
Disraeli's  important  pronouncements  ' 
regarding,  203-206  ;  Gladstone's  and 
Bright's  policy  contrasted,  207  e^ 
seq.  ;  self-government,  207-214  ;  and 
America,  250-252 

Copley,  Sarah,  22,  270  ] 

Cowper,  W.  (poet),  quoted,   13  ;  era 
pire,  20S,  245 

Croker,  269  and  ;/.  4 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  3  ;  republican  theo 
cracy,  149,  180;  Ireland,  261 

Currie,  Lady,  29 

Dante,  theocracy,  147 
Davison,  Mr.,  letter  to  (quoted),  272 

Denmark,  213,  n.  i,  235,  239  \ 

Derby,  Lord,    14,  (1852)  25,  n.  i,  39,  j 

41,  71.  2,  136-138,  (1852  and  1855)  ! 

191,  n.  I  ;  on  Russian  methods,  226  ;  \ 

Ireland,  260,  «.  I  I 
Dickens,  Charles,  2S9  ;  romance,  302 

Disraeli,  Benjamin,    Earl  of  Beacons-  j 

field  [and  see  Carlyle,  Colonies,  Em-  I 

pire.  Reform  Bill,  America,  Ireland,  I 

and     Foreign    Policy],    his    idea    of  j 
Conservatism,  5-8,  39,  204  ;  a  poet 

and  artist,  1 1,  36  ;  his  early  surround-  ! 

ings,  16-18,  268-272  ;  unique  phases  | 

of  earliest  youth,  16,  18,  275,  309-  i 


312,  321-325  ;  distinction  between 
wish  for  influence  and  for  position, 
12  ;  his  mission,  5-7,  12,  49-52,  56, 
III,  119,  210;  regrets  Lord  Derby's 
temerity  then,  as  much  as  his  timidity 
in  the  sran  rifnto  of  1855...  191,  «., 
213,  ;/.  ;  indisposition  to  take  office, 
1S52...14  ;  never  opportunist:  courted 
unpopularity,  iO.  ;  "national"  atti- 
tude, 19,  47,  48,  49,  55,  56,  66,  68, 
84,  191,  fi.,  210;  responsibility  and 
privilege,  7,  13,  95,  98,  107,  144, 
210;  utterances  to  be  viewed  suc- 
cessively, 20 ;  described  in  youth, 
22-25  ;  described  in  age,  25-27 ; 
debt,  24,  281-282;  gambling,  282; 
contradictions  in,  46,  47  ;  reconcilia- 
tion of,  43,  293  ;  illness,  23,  311,  324, 
325  ;  love  of  flowers  and  forestry, 
26  ;  light  and  books,  ib.  ;  influence 
with  Queen,  29  ;  and  art,  19,  30; 
manners,  31  ;  love  of  London, 
3I1  307-30S  ;  vigilance,  32,  24.6; 
generosity,  34,  35  ;  contrasted  with 
Gladstone,  35-42  ;  scholarship,  36  ; 
love  of  beauty,  17;  his  longsighted 
plan,  39  ;  land,  labour,  democracy, 
and  empire,  ib.  ;  principles  and 
measures,  ib.  ;  duties  of  opposition, 
40  ;  wish  for  strong  government,  ib., 
42,  50,  210,  252  ;  dislike  of  bores,  40, 
44,  224  ;  "  nationality  and  race,"  45, 
225;  "detachment,"  46;  influence 
of  eighteenth  century  on,  ib.  ; 
"  predisposition,"  ib.  ;  religious 
ideas,  ib.  ;  "  feudal  and  federal 
principles,"  51,  63  ;  change  and 
"obsolete  opinions,"  51,  81  ;  French 
Revolution  theories,  58-68,  83,  85, 
97,  145  ;  historical  outlook,  73- 
77,  81-S3  ;  revolutions,  47,  72 ; 
republican  plots,  77  ;  dread  of 
plutocracy,  6,  fi.  3,  77,  iii,  115, 
129,  202 ;  universal  suffrage,  77-80, 
98-104 ;  gentlemen  should  prove 
leaders,  80  j  conduct  in  1852. ..39, 
40  ;  store  set  by  landed  interest,  68, 
71,  S6,  95,  114,  135  ;  languages, 
241  ;  classics,  249  ;  middle  classes,  83, 
105, 123-124,  134-135.  251  ;  efficacy 
of  Parliament  (1848),  87  ;  his  prin- 
ciples of  representation,  94  ;  taxa- 
tion and,  94  ;  income-tax  and  middle 
class,  96 ;  views  prophecies  as  to 
social  effects  of  Peel's  changes,  97 ; 
uniform  wish  throughout  for  indus- 
trial franchise,  98  ei  seq.  ;  "free 
aristocracy,"  49,  98,  1 18,  1 19; 
adopted  rating  principle  of  Russell 


INDEX 


329 


in  1 854...  100  ;  the  consistent  train 
which  led  to  his  measure  of  1867, 
99-101  ;  counties  and  boroughs,  100, 
104 ;  wanted  democracy  as  an  ele- 
ment, not  a  class,  loi  ;  "  population  " 
and  property  standards,  101-104 ; 
wish  for  variety  in  representation, 
98,  104  ;  discontent  and  disafifection, 
106  ;  summary  of  his  ideal  for  making 
Toryism  "national,"  107;  "house- 
hold democracy,"  109  ;  Disraeli's 
long  consistency,  108-110;  lifelong 
attitude  to  Labour,  112-129  ;  pro- 
blems of  1830-40.. .113;  Disraeli's 
social  outlook  on  "  condition  of 
England  "  and  economical  problems, 
w^ftseg.;  upshot  of  his  sympathy 
with  labour  (tj.v.),  116  ct  seq., 
llS,  119;  vision  of  a  vanishing 
industrialism,  119;  the  spirit  of 
chivalry  applicable  to  labour,  122  ; 
"saviours  of  society,"  122;  and 
"Anglicanism,"  126;  he  breaks  up 
"Young  England"  (1845)  by  press- 
ing home  their  Church  convictions, 
128  ;  parochial  life  more  important 
even  than  political,  127  ;  his  views 
of  "Free  Trade"  {<}-v.),  131-142  ; 
influence  on  prices  and  wages  of 
precious  metal=,|i3i,  «.  i,  133,  140  ; 
"Reciprocity,"  129,  131,  138,  140; 
attitude  on  Corn  Laws,  131-135  ; 
distribution  of  labour  and  purchasing 
power,  113,  131  ;  Disraeli's  probable 
attitude  towards  Mr.  Chamberlain's 
present  fiscal  scheme  adumbrated  : 
wholesale  plans,  retail  applications, 
135-141  ;  consumer  and  producer, 
136  ;  social,  political,  spiritual  aspects 
of  C/mrch  (q.v.)  viewed  from  .Dis- 
raeli's theocratic  bias,  145-179  ; 
Puritanism  and  Theocracy,  149,  151  ; 
and  Ireland,  200 ;  Aryan  and  Se- 
mitic conceptions,  145  et  scq.  ; 
Anglican  Church  "part  of  England," 
"one  of  the  few  great  things  left," 
153  ;  society,  inconceivable  \\ithout 
religion,  155  ;  part  played  by  this 
attitude  in  his  novels,  155-156  ;  and 
science,  156-159  ;  and  revelation  by 
races,  157,  «.  I  ;  materialism,  158  ; 
Disraeli's  beliefs,  ib.,  155  ;  State 
would  lose  by  severance,  159-163  ; 
"Atheism  in  domino,"  166;  "Man 
in  masquerade,"  170 ;  not  a  "  mystic," 
156  ;  attitude  on  education  (q.v.), 
167-169  ;  discipline,  169,  170  ;  uni- 
versities, 169  ;  his  bias  for  Monarchy, 
180-184  ;  and  royal  prerogative,  184, 


189-192,  and  fully  the  whole  of 
Ch.  V.  ;  Royal  Titles  Bill,  193-194  ; 
cheapness  of  monarchy,  192  ;  debt 
to  Bolingbroke's  ideas,  195-198 
Colonics  {q.v.),  Disraeli's  zeal  and 
plans  for,  198  ;  Disraeli's  attitude 
to  "  millstone"  view  investigated» 
200-203  ;  "  Peace  at  any  price," 
207  ;  "  timidity  of  capital,"  202  ; 
power  of  instancing  political  pre- 
cedent, 213,  11,  I  ;  origin  of  his 
title,  44,  «. 
Empire  (q.v.  and  Foreign  Policy), 
temper  of  his  imperialism,  209  et 
seq.,  245  ;  principles  of  his  policy 
illustrated,  210-214,  217-221  ; 
Eastern  policy  considered,  dis- 
cussed, and  illustrated,  222-236  ; 
"the  just  influence  of  England," 
235 ;  diplomacy,  221-222  ;  Cyprus, 
230  ;  his  attitude  to  France  iq.v.), 
235-239  ;  Germany  {q.7:),  240 ; 
Austria  and  Italy  {q.r'.),  241-243  ; 
Poland,  Greece  (q ■<:'.),  243  ;  pro- 
nouncement on  militarism  with 
constitutional /c;;v,vj',  244  ;  his  fare- 
well to  constituents  sums  up  his 
lifelong  aims,  and  repeats  the 
phrase,  twice  used,  of  his  youth, 
244-245  ;  England  restored  to 
her  due  European  position,  227, 
332  ;  European  concert,  209,  230  ; 
lasting  results,  216,  227,  229,  230  ; 
Bulgaria (^.t,).  Eastern  Rowmelia, 
and  autonomy,  227 
America  [qr,.\),  early  predictions, 
48,  246-250  ;  "revolution"  dis- 
tinguished from  "insurrection," 
247,  n.  I  ;  must  be  treated  as  an 
imperial  power  affecting  Europe, 
234,  24S  ;  the  changes  produced 
by  her  civil  war,  248-249  ;  Dis- 
raeli alone  recognised  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  war,  247  ;  his  dis- 
cerning treatment  of  Anglophobia, 
250-253  ;  negro  problem,  251  ; 
Fenianism,  its  true  character,  253- 
256,  261 
Ireland  (q.v.),  Disraeli's  early  sym- 
pathy, and  great  insight  into  true 
difficulties  of,  256,  261  ;  dis- 
tinguishes discontent  from  re- 
bellion, 261  ;  disestablishment 
and  disendowment,  262-265 
Society,  attitude  to,  31,  44 ;  early 
society  around  Disraeli,  268-272  ; 
his  idea  of  real,  273-277,  2S4- 
285  ;  love  of  purpose,  276  ;  social 
charity,    277  ;    love  of    contrasts. 


330 


INDEX 


277-278;  foibles,  278-279; 
against  social  melanclioly,  279 ; 
conversation,  279-281  ;  debt,  281- 

282  ;  friendship  and  ailments,  281  ; 
and  trial,  288  ;  "  Levison  and  the 
coals,"  282,  //.  2  ;  the  "  Swells," 

283  ;  political  society,  283  ; 
salons,  274  and  ;/.  i  ;  club 
loungers,  284  ;  domesticity,  284- 
285  ;  women,  love,  and  marriage, 
285-287  ;  dream-pictures,  287-288 

/F;V  and  humour  distinguished,  2S9  ; 
nature  of  Disraeli's — "a  master  of 
sentences,"  290 ;  retorts,  ib.;  aphor- 
isms, 291-293 ;  phrases,  293 ; 
similes,  292 ;  political  pictures, 
292,  294-295  ;  sense  of  ludicrous, 
295-300  ;  pathetic  irony  illus- 
trated, 300-301 

Romance  and  picturcsqucncsSf  30 1 - 
308  ;  Disraeli's  romanticism,  302- 
304 ;  associative  feeling  and  de- 
scription, 290,  n.  I,  304 ;  scenery 
and  light,  305-307 ;  forms  and 
sounds  of  trees,  306 ;  the  mar- 
vellous, 307  ;  loz'c  of  and  intimacy 
with  London,  307-308  ;  blemishes 
of  style  considered  and  explained, 
309-331  ;  patlios,  309,  310;  mode 
of  preparation,  313  ;  influence  of 
the  arts,  313-314;  critics,  291, 
315  J  par  excellence  an  imaginative 
fantastic,  313,  315  ;  character  of 
his  fancy,  290;  poetry,  304,  311, 

323 

Ideas  on  career,  316;  preparation 
and  education  {q.v.  sub-title),  317  ; 
second-hand  adaptation,  318  ; 
action,  ib. ;  life  true  piety,  not 
brooding  on  death,  ib.  ;  maxims, 
319;  "aloofness,"  320;  "auda- 
city," 321  ;  sensitiveness  and 
courage,  321  ;  idealism,  322  ; 
reverie,  //'.  ;  industry,  326 

His  oivn  caree)'  (and  see  above) ; 
earliest  phases  of,  322-325  ; 
dividing  lines  and  moot  points  of, 
adverted  to,  319;  posthumous 
treatment  by  party,  325  ;  tributes 
to,  by  Gladstone,  Salisbury,  and 
Granville,  326  ;  character,  326 

Fictioji — earliest  works,  23,  and  11.  i  ; 
American  pamphlet  quoted,  48 ; 
his  verse,  340,  n. ;  his  books 
quoted,  I,  3,  4,  5,   10,  II,  12,  13, 

14  ;  on   leisure,    32  ;  enthusiasm, 

15  ;  characters  in,  ib.,  17,  122,  «.  i, 
125,  129,  141,  274  and  n.  i  ;  habit 
of  transference,  16,  175,  210,  275, 


277;  in  Alarcos,  16,  17;  "pre- 
disposition "  (real  'J'oryism)  and 
"education"  (poets),  18,  19,  31  ; 
Vizian  Grey,\'],y.,  33.44, 112,117, 
181,  270,  273,  275  ;  its  effects,  275  ; 
circumstances  under  wliich  written, 
309-310,  311,  323-324  ;  its  original 
dedication,  312,  «.  i,  315 
Change  and  national  character,  55, 
56 ;  physical  wants,  60 ;  man's 
destiny,  59  ;  true  aristocracy,  62  ; 
"  Equality  "  and  Labour,  63,  64  ; 
institutions  and  nationalism,  65, 
68  ;  modern  unoriginality,  69  ; 
"  Estates "  of  realm,  68  \cf,  72, 
82,  93,  95,  97,  226)  ;  "  Marney" 
and  dukeism,  75  ;  old  Whigs  and 
Tories,  81-82  ;  taxation,  82,  «.  i  ; 
Burke,  ib.,  n.  2  ;  monopoly  of 
power,  ib.,  n.  3;  bigotry  of  philo- 
sophy,  83  ;  Reform  Bill,  84,  91, 
93,  94;  utilitarianism  (^.z/.),  87, 
88,  123  ;  towns,  115  ;  labour  and 
leadership,  ib. ;  House  of  Com- 
mons, 116;  labour,  118;  industry 
and  industrialism,  I19  ;  a  "dawn" 
for  the  People,  120  ;  laissez-faire 
(Popanilla),i2y,  Milnes(i7.z'.),  125; 
Radicals  for  capital,  129  ;  Yoitng 
England  {q.v.),  130  ;  "Free  ex- 
change,"  142  ;  Theocracy,  145  ; 
Church,  155  ;  and  science,  156- 
163  ;  races  instruments  for  special 
revelations,  157,^/.  i  ;  scepticism, 
160;  Ritualism,  170;  Catholicism, 
171-178;  Zf^/Zifl/r  analysed,  172- 
178  ;  monarchy,  180-185  ;  political 
change /<?;■  j^",  evil,  183  ;  colonies, 
199  ;  "  un-English,"  203  ;  militar- 
ism, 244 ;  sympathy  and  empire, 
217  ;  Semitism,  222,  n.  i  ;  civilisa- 
tion of  Mediterranean,  223,  n.  i; 
Alfieri,  241  ;  Italy,  241-242  ; 
Ireland,  258  ;  Fenianism,  255  ; 
Rogers  (Infernal  Marriage),  269, 
n.  I  ;  architects,  ib.,  n.  3  ;  Gore 
House,  271,  n.  2;  society  {In- 
fernal Marriage),  273  ;  breeding 
{Lothair),  {Coningsby),  [Sybil], 
274 ;  ( Venetia),  ( Viviaji  Grey), 
{Contarini  Fleming),  275  ;  Lut- 
trell  {q.v.),  276;  L>'Oxsa.y  {q.v.), 
ib.  ;  Byron  {q.v.),  276-277  ; 
Ixion,  ib. ;  Lady  Blessington 
{q.7A),  {  Young  Duke),  {Popanilla), 
277  ;  {Sybil),  ib.;  {hifernal  Marri- 
age), 7^.;  startling  contrasts,  278; 
{Popa7iilla,  Ixion,  Sybil),  ib.; 
foibles     {Pofanilla),     ib.  ;     {Con- 


INDEX 


131 


ingsby.  Young  Duke,  K/irf/^),  279;  | 
(Loihair),  279  ;  conversation 
( Young  Duke),  280  ;  (Lot/iair), 
281  ;  debt  {Henrietta  Temple), 
282 ;  gambling  ( Vivian  Grey, 
Young  Duke),  ih.;  "  Swells," 
{Lothair),  283 ;  political  society 
{Sybil,  Endyinion,  Young  Duke), 
283-284  ;  club  loungers,  civic 
dinners,  284  ;  home  life  {Lothair, 
Venetia),  284-285  ;  women 
(^Lothair,  Coningsby,  Henrietta 
Temple,  Viz'ian  Grey,  Ccntarini 
Fleming),  285-287  ;  and  marriage, 
friendship,  287-288;  Wit,  Hu- 
mour, and  Romance,  many  pas- 
sages, Ch.  IX.,  passim ;  imparti- 
ality \Alroy),  321  ;  Correspondence 
and  Letters,  23,  n.  4,  32,  131,  n. 
I,  271,  272,  324,  n.  I,  325 

Pamphlets  (and  see  ''Press,"  The)— 
What  is  ke?  I,  21,  33,  50;  and 
Spirit  of  Mhiggism,  Runny- 
mede  Letters,  50 ,  66,  95,  149, 
«.  I,  197,  198  ;  Crisis  Ex- 
amined, 21,  «.  I,  51  ;  Letter  to  Lord 
Lyndhurst,  51,  72,  n.  2  ;  Whig- 
gism,  Republicanism,  Jacobin- 
ism, 74,  75-77  ;  centralisation, 
i^-t  93>  104  ;  reform,  92  ;  civil 
equality,  94  ;  public  opinion,  106  ; 
labour,  112;  Corn  Laws,  131; 
monarchy,  181,  184;  "national 
party,"  196 

Rezvlutionary  Epick  and  Shelley, 
47,  51,68,  85  ;  labour,  112,311 

Speeches,  14,  38,  44,  50  (election 
address,  1832),  53  ;  Equality,  64- 
65  ;  Popular  principles  (1847),  69  ; 
Social  and  national  importance 
of  landed  interests,  71,  72,  95  ; 
property  and  middle  classes,  78- 
79;  agitators,  79,  80,  106;  im- 
portance of  party  system,  84, 
n.  I,  85,  86 ;  land,  86  ;  utili- 
tarianism {q-v.),  90  et  seq.  ; 
triennial  parliaments,  92,  (1S46) 
97  ;  Keform  speeches,  ( 1 848- 
59)  98-107,  (1859)  loi  ;  public 
opinion,  106  ;  ideal  and  national 
Toryism,  107;  "popular  privileges" 
and  "democratic  rights,"  107; 
Edinburgh  (1867),  109;  Chart- 
ists (1S40),  113;  Labour  (1872- 
74),  116;  "Trustees  of  posterity," 
bis,  123,  130;  anti-Erastianism, 
(1845)  128,  (1848)  ib.  ;  labour 
and  gold,  133;  Social  ills  and 
remedies   of   Free   Trade,    (1852) 


I35i  (1S79)  140;  reciprocity,  138- 
139  ;  social  remedies  (1872),  143  ; 
Church,  149  ;  pledge  for  religious 
liberty,  a  benefit  to  Nonconform- 
ists, 153  ;  Dissenting  "sacerdotal- 
ism" (1870),  154;  State  would 
lose  by  severance  from  it  ot 
Church  (1870),  159;  parish  life 
(i860),  163  ;  Dissent,  164;  religious 
revival,  160;  rationalism  (1861), 
166;  education  (1832,  1839,  1854, 
1867. 1870. 1872),  167-169;  danger 
to  State  if  the  civil  ecclesiastical 
powers,  disunited,  collide,  161  ; 
monarchy,  (1872)  188-189,  (1861) 
194;  colonies  (184S),  200,  234; 
colonial  empire,  (1863)  204, 
(1872)  295  ;  imperialism,  (1862) 
210,  {1855)  ib. ;  "annexation," 
(1879)  212-215,  216;  considera- 
tion for  subject  races  and  foreign 
powers,  (1879)  217-221,  (1856) 
221,  (1871)  228-229,  (i860)  234- 
235.(1853)236,(1864)237,(1858) 
237-23S,  (1864)  //'.,  (1879)  239. 
(1878)  232,  n.  I  ;  Burials  Bill 
(1880),  290,  n.  2  ;  diplomacy, 
(i860)  222,  (1864)  lb.;  Russia's 
lawful  ambitit)n,  229 ;  Berlin 
Treaty,  231,  235  ;  "Pan-Slavism," 
232;  "balance  of  power,"  (1864) 
234,  (1870)  240;  interference, 
210,  235,  240  ;  humanity  (1876), 
225 ;  actuating  principles  of  his 
outlook  (repeating  his  earliest 
pamphlets),  (1876)  244,  (1881) 
221  ;  foresight  as  to  America 
(1863),  247-248;  speeches  of  dis- 
cernment on  America  (1856),  248, 
249  ;  American  Anglophobia, 
(1865)  250-251,  (1S71)  251-253; 
negroes,  251-252  ;  Fenianism 
(1872),  254;  Ireland,  (1843)  256, 
(1844)  256-258  ;  Maynooth,  (1846) 
257,  n.  I,  (1858)  260,  n.  I,  (1868) 
259,  261,  (1869)  260  ;  his  four 
great  speeches,  (1868-69)  264-266, 
(1869)  260,  (1871)  247.  (iS72i. 
254  ;  Peel  (1846),  278  ;  Wit^ 
(1845-49)  292,  (1833,  1846,  1859, 
i860,  1876)  295 

*'  Democracy,"  attitude  to,  7,  33,  39, 
45,  47,  48,  49,  53,  and  Chap.  IL 
passim,  58,  66,  69,  83,  88,  ;/.  I, 
91,  92,  and  n.  i,  93,  95,  97,  98- 
III,  117,  137,  201  ;  in  1884. ..100, 
107-108  ;  a  true  sovereignty,  119  ; 
America,  251 

Education,    II,    97,    98,    loo,    loi- 


INDEX 


106,  154, 159, 167-169, 317, 318, 
323 

Qualtties — generally,  26,  32  ;  am- 
bition (ils  nature),  II,  12,  17,  323, 
and  Ch.  X.  passim  ;  self-control, 
37,  321  ;  aristocratic  perception, 
popular  sympathies,  49 ;  buoyancy, 
32 ;  carelessness  of  money,  27,; 
chivalry,  29,  286 ;  courage,  25, 
321;  eloquence,  36  ;  philippics, 
41,  w.  "2;  faiaslgat  ami. insight, 
32,  35.  54,  96,  97,  115,  "7,  "8, 
'33-135.  140,  w.  I,  199,  207,  240, 
247,  249,  266,  284,  294,  321  ; 
friendship,  29;  genius  ("auto- 
suggestive  "),  15,  16;  gratitude, 
27,  34,  325  ;  humour,  37,  and 
Ch.  IK.  passim  ;  idealism,  16,  17, 
322,  and  Ch,  Vlir.,  IX.,  and  X, 
passitn ;  imagination,  3,  52,  209, 
221,  and  Ch.  VIII.,  IX.,  and  X. 
passim  ;  independence  (even  when 
unpopular),  14,  and  Ch.  VIII. 
and  X.  passim  ;  individuality,  13, 
19,  46,  49,  275,  and  Ch.  VIII. 
and  X.  passim  ;  intensity,  16,  321, 
322  ;  irony,  Ch,  IX.  passim,  300- 
301  ;  loneliness,  35,  2S4,  and  Ch. 
X.  passim  ;  loyalty  and  friendship, 
29,  288;  magnanimity,  15;  in- 
stances of,  34,  213,  ?i.  I  ;  mystery, 
44,  238,  ;/.  I,  323  ;  parliamentary, 
32,  35.  37,  3S,  39.  2S3,  292,  294- 
295  ;  patience,  25,  316  ;  reserve, 
35,  226,  284  ;  reverie,  32,  322  ; 
romance,  18,  and  Ch.  IX.  passim  ; 
sense  of  destiny  and  a  niis>ion,  12, 
18,  46,  59,  310,  and  Ch.  I.\.  and 
X.  passim  ;  sympathy  with  labour, 
26,  39,  48,  60,  61,  64 ;  his  view  of 
industrial  franchise,  98-107  ; 
capacities  of  working  classes,  105, 
III,  I12-129;  fruits  of,  I16-I17, 
138;  tenacity,  35,  36;  will,  II, 
14,  25,  40,  43,  47,  316  ;  wit,  33, 
43,  44  ;  considered  fully,  Ch.  IX. 

Defects,  15,  31,  35,  42,  43,  209,  240, 
304,  309-313.  319,  321  ;  charac- 
terised,'321,  322  ;  style.  203,  and 
Ch.  IX.  passim 

Anecdotes  of,  Ch.  I.  passim,  16,  n., 

135,  241,  254,  256,  268-272,  279, 

281,  286,  287,  288,  290-291,  300, 

319,  321,  323,  325,  326,  n. 

Disraeli,  Benjamin  (Lord  Beaconsfield's 

grandfather),  16,  270,  and  «.  I 
,  Mrs.    (Lady  Beaconsfreld),    10; 

Disraeli's  tributes  to,  27  ;  stories  of, 

28,  29,  30,  35,  26S,  286,  2S8 


Disraeli,  Isaac,  23  ;  letter  of  (alluded 
to),  24,  «,  I  ;  influence  on  his  son, 
46,'i72  ;  phrases,  203,  ;/.  2  ;  his  sur- 
roundings, 268-271  ;  advice  to  his 
son,  275  ;  phrases,  293,  300 

,     Sarah,    10,     17,    ft.,    22;    her 

influence,  324 

D'Orsay,  Count,  268 ;  Disraeli  on, 
276;  "Count  Mirabel,"  277,  291 

Douce,  F.  (antiquarian),  269 

Downman,  IL,  269 

,  J..  269 

Doyle,  124 

Dundas,  Sir  D.,  44 

Durham,  Lord,  14,  ii.  i 

Egypt,  208,  221  ;  Suez  Canal,  222 

Eldon,  Lord,  5,  50,  82,  259 

Eliot,  George,  302 

Empire,  49,  53,  54,  92,  161,  193,  205- 

207,  209-210,  2x2-245 
Ewald,  Mr.,  9,  207 
,  Professor,  146 

Faber,  124;  "St.  Lys,"  126 
Falconieri,  Tita,  24,  n.  2,  270 
Foreign  Policy  [and  see  various  coun- 
tries,  including   Poland]  ;    Disraeli's 
principles  of,  210-216,  217,  231,  234, 
235  ;  temper  of  his  imperialism,  193, 
205,  207,  209,  212-245  ;  pacificatory, 
210,  214,  216,  221,  235  ;  principles 
of  diplomacy,  209,  222 
Fox,  Charles,  40,  213,  n.  i 
France,  45,  66,   173,  w,   i  ;  Disraeli's 
desire       for     entente      with,      and 
general    policy    towards,    236-239 ; 
and  Italy,  239  ;   and   Eastern  ques- 
tion, il>. 
Frederick    the    Great    (quoted),    223, 

J!.   I 

"Free  Trade,"  36,  SG,  ;/.  I,  96,  97, 
112,  114,  131-141  ;  Disraeli's  pro- 
bable attitude  towards  Mr.  Chamber- 
lain's present  fiscal  schemes,  illus- 
trated by  Disraeli's  own  pronounce- 
ment«,  135-140 ;  colonies  a  set-off 
to  urban  effects,  cf,  202,  213,  n.  \  ; 
Ireland,  260 

French  Revolution,  theories  of,  2,  46, 
58-69 

Frere,  Sir  Bartle,  212-215 

Frith,  Mr,,  R.  A.,  28 

Froude,  9 

GA.RNETT,  Dr.  R.,  47 

George  III.,  74,  187,  197 

IV.,  181  ;  society  under,  272 


INDEX 


333 


Germany,    45  ;    theolog}-,    166 ;    Dis-  [ 
raeli's  attitude  towards,  240  ;  discerns 
purport  of  the  war,  1870,  ib. 

Gladstone,  Right  Hon.  W.  E.,  34; 
comiDared  with  Disraeli,  35-42,  55, 
98 ;  and  Cobden,  40,  n.  2  ;  and 
Oswald  Millbank,  122,  n.  I  ;  Catho- 
lic University  Bill,  169,  n.  i  ;  favours 
Canadian  "  retaliation  "  on  America, 
136,  ;/.  I  ;  prerogative,  190-191  ; 
and  Bright,  207-208 ;  precedent, 
213,  n.  I  ;  corrected,  12S,  «.  i,  172,  | 
184,  187,  222,  71.  I,  258  ;  his  praise, 
256,  262,  264 ;  on  Disraeli's  wit, 
295  ;  alluded  to,  295  ;  on  indifference 
to  world,  318 ;  tribute  of,  to  Dis- 
raeli, 326  ;  inconsistencies  in  tactics, 
36,  n.  I 

Goethe,  15,  63,  157 

Gordon,  General,  20S 

Graham,  Sir  J.,  34,  41,  236 

Graves,  Mr.,  and  Bradenham,  24,  n.  I 

Grant-Duff,  Sir  Mountstuart,  34 

Granville,   Lord,   295  ;    tribute   of,   to 
Disraeli,  326 

Greece,  224-225,  226,  232,  ;/.  i,  243 

Greenwood,  Mr.  Frederick,  43,  «.  i 

Grey,  Lord,  21,  74,  109,  no 

Guthrie,  Dr.,  43 

Hallam,  a.,  124 
Hamid,  Abdul,  227,  232,  71.  i,  233 
Hartington,    Lord    (Duke    of    Devon- 
shire), on  Disraeli,  12,  254 
Hatherley,  Lord,  44 
Hay  ward,  Abraham  (critic),  1 7,  n.  2, 

38 
Heine,   Heinrich,   9 ;  on   the   People, 

121  ;  humour,  296 
Herbert,  Sidney,  39 
Hook,  Theodore,  270 
Hope,  "  Anastasius,"  124 

■ ,  Mr.  Beresford,  290 

Hudson,  Sir  J.,  213 

Hume  (reformer),  77,  94  ;  refuted  on 

taxation    theory,   97,  98,    103,    105, 

112,  201 


India,  193,  200  ;  Disraeli's  policy  for, 
215,  216  ;  the  Mutiny,  217-221,  225, 
232  ;  his  Eastern  policy,  Intlian, 
232,  and/aj-j-»w  throughout  Ch.  VI. 

Ireland,  33,  84,  127,  132,  133,  175; 
Disraeli's  early  sympathy  with,  256  ; 
follows  Pitt's  policy,  ib.  ;  his  wonder- 
ful early  speeches  on  the  real  ques- 
tion, 256-258 ;  interpreted  by  later 
and  much  later  utterances,  258-260  ; 


and  Disraeli's  view  of  coercion,  258, 
//.  I  ;  wish  for  strong  government 
and  an  execulive  in  touch  with  the 
people,  258,  260  ;  variety  of  employ- 
ment, 261  ;  "  conquered  people," 
261,  n,  I  ;  Fenianism  (j^'t- America), 
ib.,  n.  2  ;  progress  from  1844  to  1S68, 
260-262  ;  disestablishment  and  dis- 
endowment  of  Church,  262-266  ; 
Disraeli's  warning,  1881...266;  policy 
"to  create,  not  to  destroy,"  259, 
261;  against  "identity  of  institu- 
tions," 257  ;  land  question,  265 
267  ;  pauperism,  260 
Italy,  45,  226  ;  Disraeli's  attitude 
towards,  241-243  ;  his  private  sym- 
pathy checked  by  public  policy, 
241-242 

Jamaica,  201 
Johnson,  Dr.,  2S0 

Jowett,    Benjamin,   cited   on    Eastern 
question,  230  ;  on  Disraeli,  321 

Kandahar,  208,  215  et  seq.  and  n.  i 
Kebbel,  Mr.,  9  ;  quoted,  129 
Kenealy,  Dr.,  34 

Lamb,  Lady  Caroline,  276 
Lamington,  Lord  (Baillie   Cochrane), 

27,  124,  125 
Landor,  W.  Savage,  291,  n.  i 
Lassalle,  Ferdinand,  122 
Layard,  Sir  Henry,  23,  224,  270 
Leighton,  Lord,  203 
Lewis,  Wyndham,  Mr.,  28 
Lind,   Jenny,    Disraeli's   reference   to, 

324,  n.  I 
Liverpool,  Lord,  83,  n.  3,  132 
Lockhart,  23,  «.  4,  271 
Londonderry,  Lady,  271 
Louis    Philippe,   King,    10,   236,   237, 

238,    71.    I 

Luttrell,  II.,  Disraeli  on,  276 
Lyndhurst,   Lord,    22,    51,    268,    270, 

288 
Lytton,   Sir   E.    Bulwer,   4,    22,    203, 

270 ;  romance,  301 
Lytton,  Lord,  221 

Macaul.w,  Lord,  179,  209,  217,  256, 

268 
Malmesbury,  Lord,  201 
Manchester  School,  50,  it.  i,  200  ;  and 

see  Utilitarianism 
Manin,  Daniel,  241,  320 
Manners,  Janelta,  Lady  John,  25 

,  Lord  John,  124,  126,  127 

'    Manning,  Cardinal,  177 


334 


INDEX 


Mario  (;//«■  White),  Madiime,  "  Tlieo- 
dora,"  47,  ;/.  i 

Marx,  Karl,  122 

Matiicws,  C,  270 

Melbourne,  Lor<l,  14,  ft.  I,  198 

Mereditii,  Mr.  (Sarah  Disraeli's yf<7«c/). 
270 

Mctteniich,  221.  ;/.  I,  242 

Meyncll,  Mr.  \V.,  20 

Midhat,  Pacha,  227 

Millais,  Sir  John,  34 

Milnes,  Monckton  R.  (Lord  Hough- 
ton), 124,  125,  126 

Milton,  John  ;  political  theocracy, 
1 50-1 5 1  ;  "Venetian  Constitution" 
and  Dutch  models,  151 

Molesworth,  201 

]Mommsen,  Professor,  66 

Monarchy,  70,  84,  90,  96,  97 ;  Dis- 
raeli's attitude  to,  182  ;  prerogative, 
184,  1S9-192  ;  many-sided  emblem, 

191  ;  K\n^,  the  member  for  Empire, 

192  ;  "  Empress  of  India,"  not 
bastard  imperialism,  193-194;  with 
Church,  make  for  civil  order,  194 

Montagu,  Lady  Mary  Wortlcy,  27 
Montaigne,  296 
Monteith,  124 
Moore,  T.,  269 
Morier,  Sir  R.,  224 

,  "  Zohrab,"  270 

Morley,  Right  Hon.  J.  (quoted),  31, 

34,  35.  41,.  52,  222,  «.  I 
Murphy,  Serjeant,  125 
Murray,  John,  23,  268 

Napier,  editor,  23,  n.  4,  270 
Napoleon  HL,  lo,  122,  236,  238,  271 
Newdegate,  Mr.,  222,  ti.  2 
Newman,  Cardinal,  6,  fi.  3,  170,  172 
New  Zealand,  constitution  for,  201 
Nietzsche,  F.,  59,  60 
North,  Lord,  213,  n.  i 

0"CoNNELL,  Daniel,  172,  «. 1,255  and 

K.   I 

O'Connor,  Feargus,  26,  n.  I 

,  Mr.  T.  P.,  282,  V.  I 

Osborne,  Bernal,  33 
Owen,  Robert,  122 

Padvvick,  Mr.,  27 

Palmerston,  Lord,  34,  200,  209,  210, 
211,  213,  ft.  I,  222,  ;/.  I,  227,  240, 
242 

,  Lady,  274,  ;/, 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  4,  8,  14,  25,  38  ; 
Disraeli's  real  design  in  his  over- 
throw, 40,  41,  48,  50,  56,64,  83,  ft., 
96;  disjointed  labour,  112-114  ;  his 


beneficial  reduction  of  tariff,  113, 
131,  ft.  I  ;  "compensations"  to  land, 
136  ;  (1843)  in  favour  of  preference 
to  Canada  and  Canadian  "retalia- 
tion," ill.,  n.  I  ;  and  Church  educa- 
tion, 165,  167  ;  notes  on  monarchy, 
185-187  ;  colonies,  201  ;  empire, 
208 ;  his  prophecy  as  to  Disraeli, 
217,  245  ;  alluded  to,  278,  291, 
293.  304 

"  Peehtes,"  33,  35,  ft.  i,  39,  53,  295 

Penn,  Mr.,  209 

Perceval,  82 

Persia,  207 

Pitt,  W.,  5  ;  young  Disr.ieli's  example, 
24.  74,  129,  256,  259 

Poland,  Disraeli's  sympathy  with,  243 

I'ope,  A.,  290,  307 

Powles,  Mr.,  23  ft.  2 

Pozzo,  222,  ft.  I,  271 

Press,  The  (Disraeli's  organ,  1853- 
59),  25,  ;/.  I  ;  quoted,  7,  «.  3,  33, 
fi.  2,  39,  40,  53,  64,  181  ;  detached 
democracy,  202,  213,  ft.  i  ;  Turkey, 
228  ;  political  wit,  295 

Prussia,  240 

Pye  (Laureate),  268 

Reform  Bill,  1832-36. ,.3,  8,  50,  51,  «. 
73.  77.  83  ;  effects  of,  82-85,  S9,  94, 
98,  no,  116,  180,  184 

,  1S67,  principles  of,  illus- 
trated by  former  pronouncements, 
78-So,  90  ei  seq.,  94  et  seg.,  96,  98  ; 
its  drift  and  meaning,  107-iu,  138, 
262 

Represefitative,  The,  23,  and  ft.  2 

"  Returns  to  Nature,"  59 

Roebuck,  N.,  227 

Rogers,  S.,  269,  and  ft.  i,  293 

Row  ton.  Lord,  9 

Ruskin,  J.,  quoted,  89,  303 

Russell,  Lord  J.,  14,  ft.  i,  34,  39,  40, 
41,  56,  97,  98  (reform  scheme  of  1854) 
100,  (i860)  105,  132,  169;  colonies 
and  democracy,  202  ;  empire,  208, 
211,  213,  11.  I 

Russia,  204,  208  ;  and  India,  215-216  ; 
newness  of  pretensions  to  Constanti- 
nople, 226,  229  ;  the  patriarchate, 
ib.;  Disraeli's  distinction  between 
her  "legitimate  "  and  "  illegitimate  " 
ambitions,  229  ;  his  policy  towards 
her,  early  indicated  and  long  pursued, 
228-234  ;  Pan-Slavism,  232  ;  dis- 
memberment, 241 

Salisbury,  Lord,  209,  232  ;  tribute  of, 
to  Disraeli,  326 


INDEX 


335 


San  Stefano,  Treaty  of,  227,  229  ! 

Savile,  Geor.t^e  (Halifax),  209  j 

Savonarola,  Theocracy,  147  1 

Scott,    Sir  Walter,   23,  71.  4,  28,  121,    i 

126,  268,  269,  270,  //.  I.,  302,  303       I 
Selwyn,  274  | 

Shaftesbury,  Lord,   115;    alluded   to,    [ 

294 
Sheil,  4 
Shelley,   P.    B.,  16 ;    influence   of,  on 

Disraeli,  47,  223,  n.  i  ;  Disraeli  on, 

275,  n.  I  ;  alluded  to,  293 
Sheridans,  the,  10,  271,  288,  296 
Siddons,  Mrs.,  269 
Soudan,  208,  215 
South  Africa,  137,  212-215 
Southey,  R.,  269 
StatTord,  125 
Strangford,  Lord,  10,  16,  n.  I  ;  quoted, 

62,  124 
Sunderland,  Lord,  73,  152 
Swift,  Jonathan,  6,  n.  2,  18,  25,  71.  I, 

281,  290,  293,  71.  I,  296,  300 
Sykes,  Lady,  277,  11.  i 


Taylor  ("  Platonist  "),  270,  ;/. 

Tennyson,  A.,  124 

Thackeray,  16,  «.  2,  279,  297,  300, 
302 

Tocqueville,  De,  7,  39,  66,  71  ;  on 
Church,  154;  monarchy,  i8o 

Transvaal,  208,  214 

Trelawny,  47 

Turkey,  Disraeli's  attitude  and  policy 
towards,  222-234  ;  Disraeli  7iot  pro- 
Islam,  222-223 ;  his  policy  tradi- 
tional, 224 ;  real  facts  of  Turkish 
question  in  Europe,  226-228 ;  Cyprus, 
232 


Urquiiart,  Mr.,  and  "Sidonla,"  122, 

272 
Utilitariani-sm,  I,   12,   18,  87  89,   112, 

113,  114,  115,  123,  20G 

Victoria,  Queen,  10,  29,  {1837)  185, 

187  ;    Royal   Titles   Bill,    193-194  ; 

Indian    language    and    India,    194, 

220-221,  270 
Villiers,  Mr.  C,  112 
Voltaire,  quoted  by  Disraeli,  158,  ;/.  3  ; 

influence,  290 

Waldegrave,  Frances,  Lady,  28S 
Walewski,  238 
Walpole,  Horace,  290 

,  Mr.  Spencer,  32 

,  Sir  R.,   73,  92,  ;/.    i,   95,   132, 

148,  152 
Wellington,  Duke  of,  240,  71.  i 
Westbury,  Lord,  44 
Wetherell,  82 
Whalley,  Mr.,  38 
Whigs,    "New"  and   "Old,"    7S-S3, 

90  et  seq.,   96,   99,    132,    143,    184, 

213,  ;;.  I,  262 
White,  Sir  W.,  226,  233 
Whittlestone  (valet),  24,  71.  2 
William  IIL,  3,  148 
Williams,  Mrs.  (of  Torquay),  10,  29 
Wiseman,  Cardinal,  175 
Wood,  Sir  Charles,  320 
Wyndham,  Sir  W.,  80,  82,  259 

"Young  England,"  14,  48,  115; 
fully  considered,  123-130 ;  and 
Maynooth,  128 ;  "  Sanitas  sani- 
tatum,"  128-129  ;  fruits  of,  130 

Zulu  War,  212-215 


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